Tristan Of The Round Table นิยาย & เรื่องราว

he says. "I don't even know your name, why would I trust you?" I ask him. "My name Tristan, I was Prince Caspian right hand, and I vowed my life to Princess Charlotte, you can trust me, I'm your best shot to come out of this alive," Tristan says finally introducing himself to me.

"Are you hiding anything from me Kabal? Why do I think you are lying ?" "Curse me if I lie sire." He swore. "I have sworn allegiance to this kingdom and I will not hesitate to defend them. I love my people also but they betrayed themselves. My cousin gave us up for pieces of silver and gold. He sold us out and our shield got broken." I sighed. " what's your real name? " "Tristan." "Hm...you know you can trust me right? Be rest assured that whatever you said here today would not be used against you. I understand your pain and might be willing to help."

Then Declan grudgingly pulled his weapon, offering it to me hilt-first. I curled my fingers around the leather handle, feeling the weight of it. Feeling the rightness of it. Behind Alpha Orion, his Beta Zachary began to dismount, but Alpha Orion shook his head at him and looked to the dark-haired warrior I’d flirted with on the shore. Tristan, you will test Andronika ’s prowess.” Tristan. My confidence crumbled at his name, realization of who he was hit me like a battering ram to the gut. He was Alpha Orion’s son and an Alpha in making.

The moment I step into the grand hall, the atmosphere is suffocating. Elders, warriors, and high-ranking wolves sit in a semicircle around the long oak table. Maps, scrolls, and documents lay scattered across its surface. I move carefully, my presence barely acknowledged. Suddenly, the heavy doors slam open, shaking the walls, and a familiar, towering figure strides in. Tristan Sinclair. His silver eyes find me instantly, his expression darkening. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he takes slow steps toward me. Then, he grabs my wrist. Hard.

His shoulders look narrow and weak underneath a fancy ivory ceremonial tunic, decorated with a fresh white peony flower pinned to his chest. "Hey!" he shrieks as we collide, trying to shove us away from his path. But his green eyes suddenly widen to the size of saucers the moment his gaze lands on Rowan’s face. "You!" "Yuck," Rowan spits out, her ears flattening in pure disgust. "Who in the hell are you?" I step forward instantly, using my massive frame to shield her entire body from his sight. "I am Tristan Whitlock!" He announces his name with a puffed chest, as if my wolf is supposed to drop to its knees in fear.

He was once a page in Merlin’s court and now he is on all fours, with my collar around his neck, spikes pointing inward, as he moans in pleasure licking the mud and shit from my boots. “Explain,” I speak very slowly so that his addled brain can understand my words. He was once one of Arthur’s most trustworthy knights. Now Tristan shivered, his crossbow surrendered at my feet. He can not meet my gaze as I continue “and leave nothing out. I feel like there is something you are not telling me. What…exactly…happened to Sir Gareth?”

Tristan was well known all over the land for his extraordinary mind and memorizing powers. Clearing his throat, Tristan nodded and quoted the exact words of that book. “To avoid disputes for the lust of darkness, I trapped maliciousness in twelve fragments for you to cherish as chattels.” Tristan spoke, surprising Ruth and others. “A chattel you are unable to embrace nor ever endeavor to. I, for one, command you to repel what drags your soul into the abyss.” Zadicus continued from where he left off and Tristan continued. “Do not starve for clandestine or tainted perceptions. They are derived from pure violence to provide you eternal solace. Believe in my command and Sacred Times.”

He just couldn't get the indecent scene out of his mind. Not only was his brother sleeping with his wife, but he had also found out something unimaginable. And it was something he wouldn't take lightly. --- Tristan's territory mostly dealt with the weapons of the Wallingtons. Not all weapons, but most of them. Tristan had many trained assassins, skilled just like him. He settled into his large room and sent for something to eat and drink. Within minutes, a young lady stepped in with a tray of delicious-looking food and drinks.

I miss all of my men–all of them. “Eli,” I whisper. “No, I’m Tristan,” he says, a crooked grin on his face. “I’m sure it’s easy for you get confused with four suitors, but I’m the biggest guy, the one with the crazy dark hair. Eli’s is red, and he’s tinier than me. In every way.” He waggles his eyebrows at me, trying his best to make me laugh, and I almost do. But then I remember that Eli is out there somewhere and needs to be found. He could be in danger. He could be hurt.

Roth entered the room cheerfully singing out loud some vulgar song, as Tristan looked up to him with a dazed expression on his face. Roth’s singing stopped at the expression on Tristan’s face, as he knitted his eyebrows together, looking at Tristan questioningly. When Tristan continued staring at him without a word, he let out a laugh and waved a hand in front of Tristan’s face, “Are you back from another realm yet?” Tristan attempted to get up with difficulty, so Roth quickly rushed by his side, dropping the treats in his hand, to help Tristan get up. Tristan put his arm on Roth’s arm to stop him.