Merry Christmas :)
No more than an hour had passed since Tristan was laid to rest beneath the ashes of the Roman ruin. All had left except for her. Already she had thought of digging beneath the ashes and opening the casket, just to see his face again. Just to feel his touch again. Oh how she wished that she had only thrown herself into the grave with him and died in his arms. Isolde furiously sunk her fingers into the ground, heaving massive piles of earth into the air screaming his name.
“Tristaaaan!” She screamed, “Come back! Come back!” She soon realized the futility of her actions and collapsed upon the ancient ashes. She would do anything just to relive those precious moments once again. Isolde turned and looked at the starry night sky and cried one last, agonizing cry. “Please...”
She awoke suddenly. Her body trembled as she sat up and looked around her, taking in the familiar surroundings. She looked to her left and saw Bragnae. Had it all just been a dream? But it seemed so real. The thought of marrying Morholt made her wish it was. With sudden resolve, Isolde quickly gathering her belongings. Dream or no dream, she experienced what it was like to love and determined not to marry Morholt - whatever the cost. She would never live a life without love. Bragnae only gave her a puzzled stare as she scurried around the room. “Bragnae, come!” Isolde dashed out the door.
The two women were soon walking hurriedly down the beach. “Where are we going?” Bragnae demanded.
“Are you afflicted child? Speak to me.” Isolde did not answer her. “Your father will find us and have my head! You are my charge. Please.”
“I am no one’s charge,” she protested.
Bragnae took Isolde by the arm and forcefully pulled her around. “You are,” Bragnae retorted, “and you will be Morholt’s lady.”
“And live a loveless life like my mom?”
Bragnae sighed with desperation and was ready to reason with the girl before her attention was distracted by a dark shape that had washed ashore. “What’s that?”
Isolde looked behind her, then stood in utter disbelief at what she saw. “Oh merciful God,” she gasped. Without further hesitation she dashed towards the boat.
“Isolde, wait. Don’t!” warned the old nurse. Bragnae uttered frustrations under her breath - the girl was so stubborn. “Isolde don’t... Isolde!”
Isolde threw her bag to the side and directed her gaze at what laid behind the shipwrecked boat. A faint whisper came from her trembling lips, “Tristan...”