Seizing Love
Tristan sat in a daze, recalling Morgan's earlier words. With a grimace, he finally confessed everything to her. Morgan, having anticipated his response, asked calmly, "What are you going to do? Are they married?"
"There are still a few days before the wedding," Tristan replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
"Then are you resigned to this?" Morgan inquired.
"I have no idea what to do," Tristan admitted, his frustration evident.
Morgan continued, "You said Princess Isolde also has feelings for you?"
"Yes," Tristan confirmed.
"Then are you willing to let both of you live in sorrow for the rest of your lives?" Morgan pressed.
"But that's my uncle we're talking about, who raised me as his own," Tristan said through gritted teeth.
"So, you want the one you love to be forever unhappy alongside you?" Morgan asked, her voice carrying a layer of meaning.
"This..." Tristan was momentarily stunned into silence.
Morgan exchanged a knowing glance with Lott. "Let him think about it. Meanwhile, we need to discuss our next step," she said to Lott. They moved to a more private area.
"Look, I've already gotten everything out of him. Next, it's time to persuade Tristan to take action," Morgan said, her tone resolute.
"Take action?" Lott echoed, his eyes widening in surprise. "You're suggesting we go so far as to persuade him to...?"
Morgan nodded, her expression serious. "Exactly. How many people get to seize their happiness like this? If we help him succeed, not only will Tristan be happier, but we'll also gain a talented musician who will perform for us. Princess Isolde deserves to marry someone she loves. As a woman, I sympathize with her deeply."
"Indeed," Lott agreed, nodding in approval.
Morgan continued, "And only King Mark is the one who will be heartbroken. Why not do this?"
"Alright, you need to find a way to motivate Tristan to make up his mind," Morgan instructed, taking Lott's hand.
"For Tristan, for Princess Isolde, and Camelot, you have to work hard," she urged.
Lott was convinced. "I agree with you. This is about making things right. It's a matter of seizing love, not just letting it slip away because of kindness."
Lott began to formulate a plan. He thought about how Tristan might react if directly told to pursue his uncle's fiancée. It was likely he wouldn't agree and would shy away from such an act.
"Sometimes, people need a push to muster the courage to act," Lott mused to himself, a dark smile forming at the corner of his mouth.
He then walked to the cabin and retrieved a box filled with bottles of wine. "I never imagined this 'lost wine' I fished from the river would come in handy," Lott remarked, looking at the contents with a bemused expression.
The wine, which was known for its strong effects, was often used deceitfully but now would serve a different purpose. "I suppose it's time to put it to use, even if it's on a man," Lott thought.
He planned to get Tristan drunk, hoping that the alcohol would make him more pliable.
"Does this feel wrong, or is it just me?" Lott pondered, setting aside his doubts. He then approached Morgan, who was holding the box of wine.
"Remember to follow my lead. I'll get him drunk, and you handle the rest," Lott instructed.
Morgan nodded, her face serious. "Don't worry. I'll make sure everything goes according to plan."
Lott, slightly dismayed by Morgan's nonchalant response, replied, "I plan to live well and have a family with you. Don't get too comfortable with the idea of my 'funeral' just yet!"
Morgan chuckled playfully. "You're too serious. We have a plan to execute."
Lott went back to Tristan, who was still at the banquet table. "Come on, let's have another drink to ease our sorrows," Lott said.
"Thank you, Your Majesty Lott," Tristan responded, lifting his glass. "It's a good idea to use alcohol to ease the pain."
As Tristan took a drink, he remarked, "This wine tastes excellent."
"Of course, it's the best," Lott said with pride.
"Drink up," Lott encouraged, handing him another bottle.
Lott thought proudly, "Only the right items have a purpose. What's useless in the hands of others can be a tool for others' happiness in mine."
Under Lott's encouragement, Tristan continued drinking, his eyelids growing heavier.
Eventually, Tristan collapsed on the table, and Lott, smiling triumphantly, settled into a chair. Morgan soon entered, observing Tristan's condition. She helped him to bed and gently kissed his forehead.
"Now, it's time for my part of the plan," Morgan said with a smile.
Tristan awoke with a throbbing headache, finding himself seated in a carriage. "What's happening?" he wondered, touching his surroundings. Fortunately, his harp, his trusted instrument, was still with him.