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"Tristan Vel'Thyrn-"
He gazed up at the creature before him, which spoke in a commanding voice. Hope dwindling in his heart, though he dared not let it show on his face. He had to be strong.
For the woman he swore to cherish and protect all their lives.
For their unborn child, whom they already loved as unconditionally as they loved each other.
"I present you a choice."
"Anything!" Tristan shouted. Desperation was clear in his voice. To hell with the consequences. She was going into shock. He wasn’t going to sit there and watch as Isolde slowly bled to death in his arms.
"I'll do anything! I don’t care what it is if it means you can save them both!"
"Why, of course I can save them! With my magic, the task is really quite simple. Rather, the question is, will I?"
He winced as the Archfey laughed in twisted delight. Isolde turns her head at the noise. Barely able to keep her eyes open.
"You see, we have a saying in the Queen's Court. It's that all magic comes with a price. At least for those born without the gift. And mortals who can carry but a fraction of the power we so naturally possess."
"Then name your price already! I'll pay-"
Tristan looks down and tucks a piece of hair behind Isolde's ear. Lowering his forehead to hers. A silent promise to her, and to their child. He will save them. No matter the cost demanded of him.
Golden eyes lock with the Archfey's. Determined like the sun rising after the darkest night.
"…even if it costs me my life. As long as you can guarantee me theirs, then I'm willing to forfeit everything I am."
The Archfey rolls her eyes in a huff. "The theatrics are unnecessary. What I require is a mere triviality. Certainly not as steep as what you're imagining."
The Archfey steps closer. Tristan instinctively clutches Isolde to him, shielding her with his body. Not that he could protect her if she truly desired to put the poor expectant mother out of her misery. These two were certainly amusing. The most she's had toying with the affairs of mortals in a very long time.
"Listen carefully." The Archfey narrows her eyes at Isolde, waiting for some sign that she could still hear. "Both of you."
"Isolde?" Tristan softly calls her.
She stirs slightly. The sound of her name from his lips gave her just enough strength to find the words, even as her body tensed up.
"I-I am." Isolde groans. Weak and disoriented. Ready to endure the pain and any sacrifice the Archfey bestowed upon them. "Please."
The dark fey's lips twist upwards. Her smile was as enchanting as it was malefic. "Very well. Let the Feywild bear witness to the terms of our pact! I, Mórrígan, devoted follower and proud lady of her Inner Circle—The Queen of Air and Darkness pledges this to you."
She takes a brief pause before continuing.
"My magic shall flow freely through you and into the child. A piece of my own self that she will carry for all her days. From the moment she opens her eyes and takes her first breath, every part of her will belong to the Fey Realm. And so shall you, too, Isolde Vel'Thyrn."
"What?!" Tristan asked in confusion. "What do you mean by that?"
"It's exactly as it sounds. Your daughter will be free to walk amongst our home or return to the Material Plane and back as she wishes. As so shall you, unlike your wife."
Mórrígan points a slender finger directly at Isolde.
"She will be forever bound to this land as compensation. She will have to say goodbye to the life you both once had there. The moment she takes a single step outside the Feywild-" Mórrígan's body starts to glow in an unearthly sheen of emerald green. "… her life will end."
He wouldn't let that happen. If this were his wife's fate, then his would be tied to hers. She wouldn't walk this world alone. Never without him by her side.
"Do you accept the terms of our contract?" Mórrígan asks. She knows what their answer will be, but their verbal consent is needed for the spell's completion.
"I-" Isolde suddenly grabs blindly at Tristan as she cries out from the top of her lungs. Her nails broke his skin so hard that blood flowed down his arms. But that didn't compare to the amount of blood that soaked through her skirt. This contraction had been the worst one yet. Isolde's eyes rolled to the back of her skull as she violently shook in his hold.
"Isolde?! No!" Tristan knew. If she didn't intervene now, his wife and child would be dead in the next few minutes. He feels a finger slip under and up to his chin, tilting his head straight at Mórrígan, who leans over them.
"You must speak the words for her now. And I suggest you make a decision quickly, before the choice is made for you."
Tristan couldn't even look into her eyes for an answer. He offered up a wordless prayer to whatever gods resided here in the Fey Realm. If any were willing to listen. To watch over the three of them. For their daughters' eternal happiness. That she would always have a home here. With them.
"I accept the terms of your contract!" As soon as he yells the words, the green energy that surrounds Mórrígan bursts forth and envelops Isolde. He nearly cries out in pure terror, thinking he had been tricked. But to his shock, she isn't on fire. She isn't even burning. If anything, her temperature seems to be dropping back to normal.
"There," Mórrígan says. "I think one more good push ought to do it once she's recovered somewhat. Don't forget about our deal now. The Gloaming Court never does."
Before he can say anything else, she's gone in a flash of wings. A pile of feathers on the ground was the only trace of her left. Along with the mark on Isolde's neck in the shape of a dragon.
There's a low moan as Isolde finally regains consciousness. "Tr-Tris?"
"It's alright now, Isa." Tristan reassures her with a kiss on her forehead. "You're both going to be fine."
It's as if the Feywild draws closer at the sound of a newborn's cries. Patiently waiting all this time for the arrival of this very moment, cradling the babe in a colorful array of leaves and wood.
"Now that she's here, we'll have to decide on a name," Tristan says with a chuckle. "We can't put it off any longer now, can we?"
Isolde shakes her head. Exhausted and still covered in sweat and blood, but otherwise stable. They had avoided talking about names for so long. Afraid that it would make things that much harder if they lost her.
"I think I've thought of the perfect one for her." Isolde rocks her gently as Tristan hums a melody. The baby yawns, her sleepy eyes taking in the sight of this strange and wondrous new world.
"Knowing you, I'm certain it's something out of a fairytale story," Tristan says. He hasn't been this eager since Isolde agreed to run away and marry him. "What shall we call her?"
Isolde can't help but smile at how much younger he looks in that moment. The pair glance down. Their daughter's face was sticky with tears. She stopped crying. Eyes as tired as her mother's, but fighting to stay awake. Nothing seemed to move between the trees, but something clearly had her attention. Perhaps this is what Mórrígan meant. She already shared something special with this place.
And the first time Isolde speaks her name, flowers start rising from the ground all around them. The very ones Isolde had thought of.
"Amaranth."
- 28 years later -
Amaranth's screams cut through to his very soul. Deeper than any scar Cazador had carved into his flesh. Standing protectively between her, her body nestled within the Lorebark tree, and the dark fey she once had considered a second mother. The vampire spawn held both daggers in hand. Ready to defend her, their unborn children—his family with his very life.
"Astarion Ancunín. I present you a choice."
