This is not a love story.

Nor is it a happy ending. If you’re looking for fairytales, you’ve come to the wrong place. 

I wish I could say that this is one of those tales spun by the devout and optimistic followers of Dwayna, but this is not the case.

I am a worshipper of Grenth— the God of ice and cold, the Keeper of the Underworld, the champion of Dhuum, defender in what all of Wintersday should be.

He is my god. 

But Lucy. She was on the opposite end of the spectrum. One of those disgustingly happy and bubbly people who always saw the mug half full. I will honestly say that I loathed very sight of her.

Her demeanor, her wide eyed gaze, her Kurzick armor dyed the brightest pink you would ever want to look at.

That should have been a clue in itself of how silly of a person she was: taking the gothic and conservative nature of the Kurzicks and turning it into a mockery of the bloody rainbow.

Of all colors, pink.

Like her hair. Like her blushing cheeks. 

Like her lips.

What a stupid girl! With her stupid ideals and morals and stupid god and beliefs. 

If only I could just forget her.

Read More

As of 10:21am, 1/2/12.

—-

When I woke up the next morning, all I could think about was what happened with Kalea the night before. I honestly had no idea how I should feel about it. 

She’s a taken woman. My brother’s future wife. And she kissed me.

Me.

Of all people.

The smell of eggs interrupted my thoughts. 

And it smelled delicious. 

I tore the covers off my body and cautiously walked down the steps. I could hear Korbin and my mother talking.

I was nervous about facing my brother. It was apparent that Kalea hadn’t told him anything because he didn’t strangle me in my sleep, but I was terrified that something would give it away. 

I finally made it down to the last step. My mom looked over at me and smiled. 

“Morning, Tristan,” she said, scooping eggs from the pan onto a plate. 

“Hey, Mom. Hey, Korbin,” I replied. Korbin just nodded his head and sipped his tea. I sat next to him as my mom placed the plate of steaming eggs in front of me.

“I’ll wake Dad and the girls up, then we can get started on our Wintersday morning,” Mom said excitedly. Korbin and I grumbled at her ridiculous amount of enthusiasm this early in the morning.

Couldn’t we just enjoy Wintersday in peace?

I silently ate my eggs, the tension between Korbin and me growing to new levels. Part of it had to have been in my head, considering I kissed his girl. 

I smiled a little as egg rolled around in my mouth.

She kissed me. 

“What are you so happy about?” Korbin asked, taking another gulp.

“What do you mean?”

He laughed like I was hiding something.

What if he knew? What if he was just playing along with me so I’ll feel at ease and then he’ll stab me with one of his daggers? 

It wouldn’t be above Korbin to kill his own blood. 

Maybe I’m just thinking too much.

“You’ve had a smirk on your face all morning. And let’s face it, you’re not the happiest one in the bunch.” He placed his cup down and looked at me. 

“Why do you care? You’ve never been interested in what makes me happy.”

“Well Kalea suggested we should at least try to get along. Apparently, it upsets her how much we fight and how little we care. She came in crying last night because you told her we hated each other.”

What?

I didn’t say that.

“So I’m going to try to make an effort. For her. And for mom. But if you’re gonna be like that, forget it.” He turned back to his tea. 

Kalea? She was crying about…?

Oh.

“Sorry. I’ll try,” was all I could say before guilt completely took over. Korbin scoffed and snapped his head in the direction of the stairs. 

I knew who was behind me. 

I suddenly got dizzy and nervous. I hadn’t seen Kalea since she walked off last night.

I tried to keep my breathing as normal as possible. Both Korbin and Kalea would notice if I was acting strange. I felt her walk past me and stand next to Korbin’s chair.

“Morning, Kalea,” I said, as normal as Tristanly possible. 

“Morning.” She completely avoided my gaze, even though I was looking right at her and her pink hair. 

“Hello, love,” she said before leaning down and giving Korbin a kiss.

That stung more than I thought it would.

I looked away abruptly.

I tried hard to reason with myself, that I shouldn’t be feeling this way.

The sound of Rosalie laughing ripped me away from my poisonous thoughts. I could hear my dad’s bellowing voice echo through the house. 

Well, now everyone is awake. 

We all moved from the kitchen to the living area, my mom balancing poorly wrapped gifts on her arms. 

“Gift time! Aren’t you all excited?” 

A grumble from me, smiles and nods from everyone else.

Mom tentatively passed out the few gifts that were resting under our tree.

Many for Rosalie, who was still young and desired numerous gifts on Wintersday morning. 

A few for Korbin and Kalea. She was sitting on his lap, giggling her usual way. 

My parents both had two each, I’m guessing from each other and from the two disgusting lovebirds in the corner. 

And only one for me. 

From my parents.

As everyone began unwrapping and showing off their gifts, I sat there with mine, disgusted by the entire thought of gift giving. 

I stood up abruptly and went into the dining room, closing my eyes and praying to Grenth. 

Doing what I was taught by my Vabbian comrades. Paying my respects to the dead. 

“Tristan, what are you doing?” Korbin asked from the other room. 

I stayed silent.

“Don’t you know we’re opening presents?” he called again.

Still, no answer.

He was suddenly in the kitchen, seemingly furious. Everyone else busied themselves with their gifts, blantanly unaware of what was happening just a few feet away. 

“What’s wrong with you? You used to not be so cold and ant-social on Wintersday. Where did your spirit go?”

“I’ve realized what it’s really about. Besides, I didn’t even want to be here this Wintersday.”

“Why?”

It used to be because of my family.

Now it was all because of her.

Naturally, though, I couldn’t tell him that.

“Korbin, let’s face it. We hate each other. And don’t even bother trying to mask it for Mom or Kalea. There’s no point. We hate each other and always will.” I couldn’t stop the words from coming out of my mouth. I knew they would upset him.

And I was right.

There was a bright flash in my left eye and I was suddenly on the stone floor. I opened my eyes, though I was half blinded, and saw Korbin hovering over me, his hands clenched into fists. I staggered to my feet and stood in front of him.

“Sorry, Tristan.”

“No. It’s ok. But just for the sake of fairness-“

My knuckles met his cheekbone. He stumbled over the chair and fell to the floor. 

The commotion of Korbin knocking the chair over must have alerted everyone else, as they were all in the kitchen now, watching helplessly. I glanced over at Kalea, whose face was fixed into a terrified expression. 

To this day, I don’t know what came over me. 

I was fighting her fiancee, my brother. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife.

But I just couldn’t help myself.

I smiled at her.

Before I could get a reaction though, my brother’s arms were wrapped around my waist in a forceful tackle to the floor. We landed with a thud and immediately started swatting away at each other, Mom, Rosalie and Kalea begging us to stop in the background. 

We wouldn’t listen. 

We were letting out two and a half decades of pent up rage and apprehension. 

It would take a girl to make me fight Korbin back. 

A girl I used to hate.

A girl I had nothing in common with.

A girl I was never allowed to touch.

After a good two minutes of punching the living daylights out of each other, Korbin pulled me up and wiped a stream of blood off of his chin. 

Our family stared at us, bewildered. Both Mom and Kalea were in tears.

Mom and Rosalie rushed to Korbin’s aid, brushing off the blood with bandages. I shook my head and walked outside, staring at the morning sky.

They would tend to the so called “normal” child. 

I always knew I was the odd one.

I sighed and heard the door open behind me.

“Korbin could have killed you, you know.”

Kalea stood next to me as I laughed at her words.

“Yeah right. We’re brothers. We may hate each other but we won’t kill each other.” I looked at her worried expression. “So you told Korbin you didn’t want us to fight anymore? Well, looks like he’s going to be a pretty terrible husband,” I laughed. I felt like the funniest guy in all of Tyria.

But she didn’t laugh.

Instead, she slapped the side of my face.

I guess I deserved that. 

We stood in silence for a few moments.

“Tristan, I’m sorry I kissed you.”

She looked down. I could see that something was tearing her up inside. 

“Why?”

“Because I’m marrying your brother. Nothing’s going to change that.”

“I didn’t expect anything to change. I didn’t even expect you to kiss me. I guess you just can’t resist the Tristan charm,” I joked, smirking at her. She smiled and pushed my arm. 

Then she got too serious for my own comfort. 

“We probably shouldn’t ever see each other again. I don’t know if I trust… you.”

“You don’t know if you trust me, or if you trust you?” 

Another slap, only this one was lighter. 

Ha. I was right. 

“Fine. We’ll never see each other again,” I stated, towering over her. The scene felt eerily familiar.

She glanced up at me with her blue eyes, just below the ends of her pink hair. 

She ran her index finger across a shallow gash on my jaw, getting inches closer to me. 

And she kissed me again.

This time was longer and even more guilt-ridden than before. 

And in an instant she was gone.

The last few days I was in Kryta were tense, to say the least. My family didn’t know how to act around their only Grenth-worshipping child, Korbin was still releshing in our post-fight silence, and Kalea.

I couldn’t tell what she was feeling. 

One night, she would be sitting in Korbin’s lap, running her fingers through his hair.

The next, she would sneak outside with me and repeat our old, unmentionable encounters.

What a crazy girl. 

When it was time for me to sail back to Elona, only my sister and mom hugged me goodbye. Neither my brother nor his fiancee would look me in the eye.

Not that I cared. 

I stepped off the ship at the Kournan port and was greeted by Durai.

It’s so nice to be home.

“How was the family in Kryta?” he asked, walking towards the road to Vabbi.

“Brutal, in case you couldn’t tell by the black eye and cut lip. And, of course, my mom was once again overexcited about a stupid holiday.”

“And what about the battle scars? Who are those from?”

“My brother. He hasn’t changed. One thing has though: he has a fiancee.”

I don’t know how, but Durai could tell I wouldn’t want to say any more about her.

And I didn’t.

I didn’t even want to think about her anymore. 

She was just a stupid girl, who giggled at nothing and asked pointless questions and worshipped Dwayna and kissed people she wasn’t supposed to. 

She also wore too much damn pink.

—-

Edited, finally, after some food and some much needed support from my boyfriend. 

Now just to finish the rest of it in three hours. 

Happy Wintersday, my fellow Guild Wars enthusiasts!

As of 11:25am, 1/2/12.

Everyone got back to the house exhausted. Well, almost everyone.

“We should play a game!” my mother exclaimed. Everyone groaned but agreed anyway, in order to avoid a speech about not spending time together as a family.

I watched on as Dad, Korbin and Rosalie played a card game. My mother acted as both a cheerleader and a waitress, refilling everyone’s mugs with more eggnog. 

Kalea was nowhere to be found, which I certainly wasn’t going to complain about. 

As Rosalie and Korbin started arguing, I finally decided to escape. 

I walked out onto the porch and saw the ever-familar tree. 

I leaned against the tree, rubbing my exposed hands for warmth.

I never understood why, in such a tropical climate, it never failed to snow during the Wintersday season. 

I hate snow.

A creak echoed behind me, and warmth and light spilled from the house. A slender shadow stretched across the white ground.

“Your family is absolutely insane,” said the shadow. I rolled my eyes. 

“If you’re going to marry my brother, it’s something you’ll have to get better acquainted with.”

“Well of course,” she giggled, skipping over to me, kicking snow over my feet in the process. Damn girl, making me colder than I already am. She finally stood in front of me. I could tell she was confused by my stern expression.

Let her be confused. 

Just pray to Grenth she doesn’t ask me any-

“So why are you out here in the cold? And why do you look so serious? Don’t you know Wintersday is supposed to be about joy and love?” she exclaimed, her wide eyes becoming even wider and almost impossibly happier. 

“Don’t you know it’s a matter of opinion?” I shot back. 

“Oh, I see. You’re one of those unhappy Grenth followers aren’t you?” 

I grumbled and leaned in closer to my tree.

“Just because I’m a Grenth worshipper, doesn’t mean I’m unhappy. It just means I understand the true spirit of Wintersday,” you bubble-headed idiot.

“The true spirit of Wintersday is about sharing love and warmth, and—”

“Let me stop you right there,” I interrupted, sacrificing my hand’s warmth to further illustrate my need for her to stop talking. “Let’s not get into an argument about what Wintersday is really about,” which is definitely my way, “and just enjoy the silence of cold air. Silence never hurt anybody.”

I could tell by her slightly offended expression that I finally shut her up. 

She folded her arms and looked down, the pink fringe of her bangs covering her eyes. 

I almost felt bad.

Almost.

As I looked her petite frame, I couldn’t help but notice she was shivering. Goose bumps blanketed her skin.

“You should go inside. It’s freezing out here.”

“I’m fine. I’m just enjoying the cold air like you told me to. It’s actually quite nice— to be cold. Then the slightest sensation of warmth is so much more appreciated and joyous.”

There she goes on her joy spiel again. 

“Uh, yeah. That’s definitely why I stand out here in the cold,” I said, half sarcastically, half confused. 

“Can I ask you something?”

It seems this girl can never be quiet.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Why don’t you spend any time with your family?”

I looked up at her with furrowed eyebrows. Her eyes were genuinely curious, and sparkled under a fresh line of snow. I felt like I should’ve been a little bit offended, but any chance to mope around in my own self pity…

Let’s do it.

“Well to be honest, my family can be pretty overwhelming sometimes. Especially during holidays like this or Halloween. Nothing as bad as when we visit family in Cantha for the Dragon festival. You want to talk about overwhelming? You haven’t seen my father and uncles drunk on rice wine chasing my sister and grandmother around with their dragon masks on. Or my mother—my Krytan mother—crying at seeing the emperor every year. ‘I’m just so touched by Canthan culture! I’m so happy you’re letting me be apart of it!’ And it’s not the holidays until someone cries or leaves or burns the house down in absolute rage. Ugh,” I vented, shaking my head in disapproval. Kalea let out one of her trademark giggles.

How I hated it when she giggled.

“They’re not all bad. Your mom’s very sweet.”

“If by sweet you mean overemotional, then yes.”

“I don’t think you give them enough credit.”

“Well what about your family? Why are you here with us and not with them?” I shot harshly. She smiled and looked down.

“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to them in years,” she said. 

Fantastic.

Now I’m a huge prick.

She looked up and smiled at me, a real, heart-warming smile. 

A smile for me, and only me.

“It’s alright. Yours will do just fine,” she half-laughed. I stared at her bewildered. How can she be so happy and optimistic all the time? 

What’s wrong with her?

Though, I guess the better question would be:

What’s wrong with me?

Why do I care so much? This is just another girl my brother’s brought home to the folks. This is just another beautiful girl who’s out of anyone’s league. This is just another girl.

Why should I care that she doesn’t talk to her family? Why should I care that she’s using my blood as her surrogate relatives? Why should I care that her perfect skin is covered in goosebumps from the cold?

I glanced over at her shivering body.

I laughed silently as I was reminded of the main reason why I hate this girl.

So much pink. 

—

For the next few days, my mother tried relentlessly to make the holidays as festive as possible.

She insisted on playing a mini version of Nine Rings on our kitchen tables, betting with small amounts of gold. 

She tried to dress the cat in jingle bells. 

She tried to get all of us to go croling for gods’ sakes. 

Luckily, I made excuses to escape quite a bit. 

Even if Kalea liked to follow me around and ask me questions about Elona. She was like a child.

Why did you move to Vabbi?

Are all your friends Elonian?

Could Korbin and I visit you?

This last question bothered me the most. Did she really not know how much Korbin and me hated each other? I pushed the thought to the back of my mind as I grabbed a cloak on the chair and headed for the door.

“Are you going for a walk?” Her voice seemed to cut through my ears.

“Yeah.”

“Good! I’ll come with,” she suggested, grabbing her cloak as well.

Something in me didn’t want to argue with her. Either because arguing with her was like arguing with a wall or I wanted her there.

“You can tell me more about Vabbi!”

Definitely the first one.

We stepped out the door and into the freezing night air. She shivered a little bit. Her legs were still exposed and were now covered in goosebumps. 

We started walking towards Lion’s Arch. 

“So is Vabbi hot or is it pretty nice?” 

Cutting right to the chase, I see. The gears in my head started to turn. Time to turn her game on herself.

“Stop right there. It’s my turn to interrogate,” I said. “Why are you so interested in Vabbi?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been to Elona. I’ve always though it was an interesting place.”

“Yeah, it is. Nothing compared to Cantha, which is where you’re from, right?”

“Yep. Born and raised in Kaineng City.” 

“So how’d you and Korbin meet?” She stopped walking and looked at me with her typical confused expression.

“You mean he didn’t tell you about it or anything?”

I laughed. 

“In case you couldn’t tell, my brother and I don’t get along. At all,” I explained, leaning against a tree. We were well outside Hakewood now. 

“Why is that?”

“Now, now, now, Kalea. I thought I was the one asking the questions,” I taunted. She smirked and fake-pouted, sticking her pinks lips out farther than usual. I couldn’t help but smile, the first time since I’ve been here. 

“Well before you ask another question, I’ve got one for you. Then you can ask me whatever you want and I’ll answer as honestly as possible. Deal?” Her eyes looked dark and sinister, polar opposite of the usual joyful hue. 

“Fine. Ask away.”

“Why are you always staring at me?”

Well… damn. 

I panicked a little. I couldn’t just tell her I thought she was beautiful, I couldn’t tell her I was jealous that she was with my complete prick of a brother. 

There was nothing I could get away with saying.

“Well, why do you wear so much pink?” I blurted, hoping to avoid the question aimed at me. 

“No, I asked you first. You have to answer me. That was our deal.” She crossed her arms. I looked down nervously, my eyes flickering between my two feet. I raised my head, glanced at her for a moment, and looked past her at a signpost. 

“Well.. I guess it’s because…” I tried to stall, but I knew it wouldn’t make any difference. She knew what she was asking and she knew why she was asking it. No use in denying the inevitable. “I stare at you because you’re beautiful. And don’t get that surprised look on your face either. You know you’re beautiful. And well, I don’t look at girls a lot. I don’t know. I guess I’m just really particular. And… and I guess that’s all there is to say,” I explained, avoiding her gaze.

Her pink cheeks turned even pinker, and a smile played at the corner of her lips. It disappeared and she looked down, in what looked like shame. 

Oh no. 

I’ve said something wrong. What was she thinking now? Was she thinking I was crazy, creepy, a completely awful person?

And then she walked up and kissed me. 

A simple kiss on her pink lips. 

She pulled away quickly and brought her fingers up to her mouth. 

“I’m sorry, Tristan. I shouldn’t have done that. Korbin’s your broth-“

“Stop.” She looked up at me, surprised. I couldn’t help myself. I walked up to her and held the sides of her face.

For just a moment, I didn’t care that she had pink hair.

For just a moment, I didn’t care that she asked me stupid questions. 

For just a moment, I didn’t care that she worshipped Dwayna.

And for just a moment, I didn’t care that she was my brother’s fiancee. 

So I kissed her. With control, with passion. And she kissed me back. 

There we were. In the snow, in my hometown, in Kryta. I was kissing my brother’s fiancee and she didn’t reject me. She was there and willing, no resistance. 

We pulled away from each other, our foreheads still touching. Our eyes were closed; I didn’t know if I wanted to look at her or not. I braved it and opened my eyes.

She opened hers too. 

I could see her short breaths in the air and her eyes looking down. She let out one more sigh and pushed me away, walking past me and heading towards the house. 

And then it all hit me at once. 

The guilt, the shame, the humiliation, the rejection. 

I couldn’t even imagine how she might be feeling. 

I leaned against a rockface, letting out the deepest sigh. I couldn’t even really figure out what I was feeling. Sure, there was the natural guilt and shame, but one thought was slowly breaking through and making itself known.

I kissed her, and she didn’t stop me.  

—-

I’ve honestly had a lot of trouble writing this. It gets worse and worse the farther it goes along. I guess I’m not one for writing with a deadline.

Though, the kiss scene is probably the best written thing in this story.

(EDIT): I added some filler to make it flow better. The story has finally come together completely.

As of 11:12, 1/2/12.

My family walked along the path to Lion’s Arch, my mother happily greeting everyone along the way. Some of them had the same look on their face as I did.

That “what is this woman’s problem?” face. 

I sped past my brother and his future pink wife up to my sister. 

“Hey Rosalie, how’s Grandpa?” I asked, concerned.

“What do you mean ‘how’s Grandpa?’ He’s fine. Why? Did someone tell you he wasn’t?” she said, panicking slightly. I could see the genuine worry in her eye and decided not to say anything else. My sister was always fragile. Maybe Mom decided not to tell her anything?

“No, no, no. I was just wondering,” I said, dismissing myself. I walked up to my mom.

“Mom, how’s Grandpa?” 

“Hello Mrs. Thorne! Are you having a happy Wintersday?” she called enthusiastically, clearly avoiding my question.

“Mom,” I repeated. “How’s Grandpa?”

“Oh, Lois! That headband is absolutely lovely!” 

“MOM!”

She snapped her head in my direction. 

“Gods, Tristan. Do you have to shout at me?” 

“Well you wouldn’t answer me. How is Grandpa?” I said, spacing my words harshly. 

“Oh, um, he’s doing alright I suppose.”

“That’s not very convincing. I’m gonna ask dad,” I threatened. She grabbed my arm and sighed.

“Fine. Grandpa’s not really sick. I just said that so you’d come to Kryta this Wintersday. You realize it’s been four years since I’ve seen you?”

“So you lied to me?”

She would lie to me.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby, Tristan. We wanted you here and you’re here, no need to make such a big fuss about it.” With that, she turned her attention to another innocent passerby, victim to her shower of Wintersday cheer. 

Typical. So typical of my mother. 

I slunk behind the entire group, trying to mainly avoid Kalea.

She asked too many questions.

When we finally arrived in the Krytan capital, we were immediately bombarded with carolers and children and advocates of either Dwayna or Grenth.

It was not this Wintersday-y when I first got here…

We walked over to a small snowball fight, a simple two versus two. My family cheered on the Dwayna combatants while I just silently watched.

While I enjoyed the infamous Grenth versus Dwayna debate, I hated the snowball fights. I thought they were demeaning to the true spirit of the holiday. 

Then again, I had a personal grudge against them.

In school, I was always picked last for either of the teams. 

Like I said, personal grudge.

As multiple crowds surrounded multiple games, I wandered off and engaged my fellow Grenth followers, avoiding my family as much as I could.

It was nightfall before they decided to even look for me. 

Rosalie walked over and took my hand, pulling me towards the gate.

“There you are, Tristan. We’ve been here for hours. How are you not tired?”

I never said I wasn’t.

“Well you found me so now we can go.”

The walk back to Hakewood was long and quiet.

—-

Kind of an awkward break between parts two and three, but if I combined them, then they would be too long. I may break it up a little after I finish writing part four. 

As of 6:39pm, 12/28/11.

I was the happiest I could possibly be during the Wintersday season. I was surrounded by my Vabbian friends, getting drunk on juniberry gin and some high quality Vabbian wine. 

“I vote we make this a tradition,” my Dervish friend Durai slurred, raising his goblet. “Who needs parents and brothers and sisters and lovers when you have friends like us? Am I right?”

The group laughed and agreed in unison.

We all raised our glasses and mugs and clanked them together. I’d take my freiends over my family any day of the year. 

As I stumbled home, laughing at old jokes my friends had told, I could see a faint, white rectangle on my porch. As I got closer and closer, my fuzzy vision made it out to be a letter. 

A letter on very familiar stationary.

With very familiar handwriting.

Sealed by a very familiar signet.

I picked the letter up, broke the seal, and clumsily read across the page. 

Tristan,

Ever since you left for Vabbi, we never see you. It’s been years since we’ve spent Wintersday as a family. Both your brother and your sister are visiting for the holidays. 

And I know you, you’ll typically say you’re busy with some other pressing issue and won’t come, but this is a very important Wintersday. There’s a good chance it could be your grandfather’s last one. 

So I hope you can find time out of your “busy” schedule to spend the holidays with your family.

Love,

Mom

Oh thanks mom. Make me feel guilty. 

I sighed as I entered my house. 

I lit a few candles and set the letter down on my desk, contemplating whether or not I should go. Because I would have to endure my family’s constant attack, but I could spend this last holiday with my grandfather, whom I actually love quite a bit. And if I didn’t go, my mom would use it to guilt trip me for the rest of my family. 

I was obligated to go, despite how much I wanted to stay in Elona with my friends.

Maybe my family’s changed.

It couldn’t be that bad, could it?

—

Lion’s Arch was covered in snow. 

I hate snow.

I inched my way off the ship with the rest of the passengers, listening to the weak dock creak beneath my feet. Sighing, I prepared myself for the trek through the city to my parents’ home in Hakewood.

As I walked to the gates, I couldn’t help but be surprised at the familiar faces from my childhood.

The old watchguard on the giant stone steps, the guide hiding in the corner, the Lionguard outside the city.

Nothing has changed.

Even the arched path situated on the ever unchanging cliff seemed to welcome my return with familiarity.

After a while, my eyes finally caught the stone homes and tall towers of my hometown.

And then I saw the beach where my dad taught me to swim.

Then the school I learned to read and write. 

Then the tree my brother challenged me to climb many times, right next to the porch I tripped and broke my arm on, below the roof I thatched with my grandfather.

I’ll be a man and admit, I did miss this place. 

I entered my small, childhood home and saw my mother hovering over a table covered in a game my brother and father were playing. My mom glanced up at me. Her eyes narrowed from smiling so hugely, peering out only through the thinnest slits.

“Tristan!” she shouted, edging around the table to give me a hug.

I unenthusiastically patted her back as she kissed my cheek. 

“Hi, Mom,” I said, completely monotone. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home. Did you have a nice trip? Korbin and your father just started a game of cards. You should all play!”

The last time my dad, brother and I played cards, we ended up with a broken table and a black eye on my brother’s face. 

“Yeah, sure.”

“Hey, Tristan,” Korbin said, waving absent mindedly at me and avoiding my eyes. 

“Hi, Korbin.”

Silence.

“Korbin! You should bring your lovely fiancee down here and—”

I shot my glance over to my brother. 

“Fiancee? Since when do you have a fiancee? Since when have you been seeing someone?” 

“Since when do you care about my life?”

Fine then. I won’t care.

He disappeared up the wooden steps. There were voices muttering, a laugh from my sister, shadows waltzing on the stone walls from the candlelight. 

“Tristan!!” my sister screamed, flying down the stairs and embracing me. 

Yet another bone crushing hug from a female in my life. 

“Hey Rosalie. It’s not like I needed to breathe or anything,” I said. She slapped my shoulder.

I turned my attention the steps as I heard the clicks of heels walking down them. 

First, the toes of a pink boot. Then a bare knee, a delicate hand, sloped shoulders, rosy pink hair.

Then her face.

I’ll admit, I was shocked my brother could get such a beautiful girl. I was shocked my brother could get any girl, really.

“Tristan, this is Kalea. Kalea, my brother Tristan,” Korbin introduced. Her smile was crazy wide and nearly made her eyes disappear.

I hate her already.

“Hi, Tristan! It’s so nice to meet you! Korbin’s told me so much about you. Like that you live in Vabbi. I think that’s wonderful. I’ve never been myself but I’ve heard it’s a truly magical place. Like the rare gem in a boring, hot desert. I would love to live there someday,” she mused, her eyes starting off into the great beyond of her overexaggerated imagination. Her wide eyes looked back at me. “Where in Vabbi do you live?”

“Mihanu,” I replied.

Nowhere special.

“That’s near a palace isn’t it? Have you ever been to a Vabbian prince’s palace?!” she said, with an uncomfortable level of excitement. 

“No.”

“Have you ever met a prince from there? Royalty is beautiful as is, I bet Vabbian royalty rivals the gods. Have you ever met a princess or anything?”

“No…”

No, you crazy girl, no.

Before this parrot of a girl could ask me any more questions, Mom cut in.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and unpack your things, get comfortable, and we’ll all go out and watch a few rounds of one of the snowball fights. Maybe we’ll get lucky and see some fireworks,” she said, sending me in the direction of the stairs.

As I sulked my way up to the second floor, I could hear Kalea’s laugh echo throughout the house, and probably the whole entire town. 

What in the gods’ names is wrong with this girl?

—-

Reworked the opening dialogue between Tristan and his family. 

Will probably rewrite the very beginning. 

Hopefully chapter 2 will be finished/posted pretty soon. 

As of 6:29pm, 12/28/11

—-

This is not a love story.

Nor is it a happy ending. If you’re looking for fairytales, you’ve come to the wrong place. 

I wish I could say that this is one of those tales spun by the devout and optimistic followers of Dwayna, but this is not the case.

I am a worshipper of Grenth— the God of ice and cold, the Keeper of the Underworld, the champion of Dhuum, defender in what all of Wintersday should be.

He is my god. 

But Lucy. She was on the opposite end of the spectrum. One of those disgustingly happy and bubbly people who always saw the mug half full. I will honestly say that I loathed very sight of her.

Her demeanor, her wide eyed gaze, her Kurzick armor dyed the brightest pink you would ever want to look at.

That should have been a clue in itself of how silly of a person she was: taking the gothic and conservative nature of the Kurzicks and turning it into a mockery of the bloody rainbow.

Of all colors, pink.

Like her hair. Like her blushing cheeks. 

Like her lips.

What a stupid girl! With her stupid ideals and morals and stupid god and beliefs. 

If only I could just forget her.

—-

A simple introduction to a simple story so far.