Dont Let Me Go

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
The story of Tara and Tristan, even on the on the brink of death, love can save.

Submitted: October 24, 2011

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Submitted: October 24, 2011



“I can’t barely walk a step without tripping on this dreadful dress!” Tara said to herself.

It was the wedding day she had waited for all her life. Sadly though, her mother’s old wedding gown was the only proper thing she could afford to wear, but it was much too long in the front and back.

Tara was the daughter of the leader of the rebels against the King, though she hardly cared for all of the everyday politics that were discussed.

Tara turned to the side to get one last glance at herself in the mirror. Her hair was pulled into a loose bun, decorated with sprigs of dog violets that contrasted well with the dark brown hair that she had. The flowers matched her eyes wonderfully, showing off the lavender colors that enhanced the tinges of grey and green in them.

“You look just like you mother,” Her father had told her all of her life.

Though Tara found it slightly ironic that her mother, before she passed away, had always been ‘of good size’. Now, Tara’s father and her had problems getting food to even feed themselves with. Thus leading her to be as scrawny as a sapling in the spring. Nevertheless, she loved being compared with her mother. Whom she missed dearly.

Her thoughts were cut short when the love of her life, Tristan, poked his head past the animal skin that hung in the door way. Tara let out a sudden squeak of surprise when she saw him.

He was dressed in a dark blue tunic embroidered with grey and white across the front of it. He wore a pair of black riding boots, up to the thigh, his hair gracefully pulled back with a tie. A smile eased itself across his face.

Before Tara could say a word, he strode in and swept her into his arms, holding her gently against him. He kissed her lightly, “ You look so beautiful!”

Tara shrugged in disbelief but replied, “No, you are the beautiful one. I don’t think I have ever seen that tunic on you before.”

“That’s because,” he winked, “I have been saving it for a special occasion.”

They both laughed together when Tara gently pressed her forehead against his, looking into his amber glazed eyes. He stood there silently as she memorized the bold features he had, the same features she had seen for every day as far back as she could remember. Tristan’s entrancing eyes studied her as she ran the back of her hand across his face. Always clean-shaven and smooth. A few strands of hair escaped from his tie when she hugged him closer. She never wanted to leave his arms.

“Ne laissez-moi aller,” Tara whispered to him in French. “ Don’t let me go.”

Their moment of peace ended abruptly when the clanking of swords and yelling erupted from outside. “We’ve found the rebels!” A husky dry sounding voice shouted.

Tristan grabbed Tara’s hand sharply, “They’ve found us! The King’s guards have found us!”

His voice was edged in fear and anger.

Tristan ran to the near-by fireplace and grabbed an old sword that rested on its mantel. After doing so, he shoved Tara underneath her draped dressing table, not saying a word as she called out, “Tristan wait…”

It was too late when three burly men yanked away the animal skin, to see Tristan holding the sword in a defensive stance. Tara peeked from under the drapes of the table to see that the guards had created a circular formation around her betrothed.

The shortest guard struck first, a blow that Tristan easily dodged, to slice him straight across the chest. The tallest of the guards yelled in anger over his fallen friend and swung over-head with his sword. Tristan ducked and killed him much the same as he had the other. Left now was the last and grizzliest of the guards, with lines on his face that marked his cruel intentions. With the hilt of his weapon, the man knocked Tristan on the upside of the head and to the ground. He towered over Tristan’s unconscious body, ready to pierce his chest with the crude blade.

Before she could stop herself, “Noooo!” Tara screamed.

The man turned towards the table in surprise. He stepped from Tristan and in a matter of seconds Tara was staring face to face with the grizzly monster. His grimy teeth formed into a nasty smile as he reached out to grab her arm. Tara slapped him away and scurried out through the other end of the table.

“You monster!” Tara punched him sharply across the face. Pain surging through her hand.

The man’s smile turned into a scowl of rage, within a moment he bolted after Tara into the now dark night. She had wanted her wedding to be under the stars. She hadn’t even noticed the breathless body of her father at the entry as she fled.

Her shoes tore at the skirt of her dress as she ran through the forest that had surrounded her home. Tara could hear the ripping of it as she fell down numerously into the rough dirt. Though, the only thing she could think of was the name, Tristan, Tristan, Tristan.

The hours had flown by when she finally noticed where her feet had led her to, it was where she and Tristan had first met. Her hair had come undone and strands of it hung loosely in her face as she peered around. The cliffs to the sea.

She had been sitting on the edge one day, she had never been scared of heights, upset about her father’s never ending politics when Tristan had appeared. He was the son of a hunter and was out in the woods that day when he saw her. They became friends, and later fell in love.

Tara realized that she didn’t hear or see the guard anymore, so she walked to the edge. Once more ripping her shredded dress to the seams. She sat down, feet hanging off the ledge, with her head in her hands as she cried. Tears rolled down Tara’s face when she saw some purple dots from the corner of her eye. A clump of thistles had somehow grown on the rocks. While wiping away the watery tears, she reached out for one of the thistles, its knife-like thorns sticking into her flesh. She didn’t even feel the pain.

Tara stared into its deep purple colors when she heard in the distance her name being called. She turned her head quickly, hair whipping across her face due to the strong wind, to see the dark silhouettes of a horse and rider. She knew that voice…Yes! She knew that voice!

“Tristan! I am here!” She yelled.

Tara began to run but something had caught on her dress. The thistles. She waved for Tristan as she pulled harder and harder for the gown to come loose. The sudden winds made it difficult to stand.

“Tristan I am right her-,” She had given one last big yank when a gust of wind blew her right to the edge.

Tara screamed in fright as she felt her body tipping downwards to the sea. She gave a look of terror to Tristan’s swiftly approaching figure, he was now running on foot.

The moment came when the wind finally knocked her over, sending her flying into the air. Her entire life flashed before her in the blink of an eye, when a firm hand yanked her arm.

She looked up in shock as she dangled loosely through the air. Tristan’s face stared down at her with an expression as if he was the one hanging over his fate. Tristan heaved Tara up into his arms. They both fell back on to the ground in exhaustion.

It seemed like she couldn’t breathe, the fear of death pounding on her mind. Tristan layered panicked kisses on Tara’s eyes, forehead, and lips, as he repeated over and over in a faint voice, “Je ne vais pas vous laisser aller.” I won’t let you go. I won’t let you go.

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