You said I was allowed to request it!!!!!!! I want Tyla/Freya/Tristan!!!! Whatever you want!!! However dark you want!!!! Good end or bad end or medium end!!! Up to you!!! I'm just thirsty after that snippet with Tristan putting Tyla in a muzzle.
I couldn't decide so you get multiple versions
Version 1: Cuck Tristan
Contrary to popular belief, Tristan is not unreasonable. His centuries of pursuing his fiance were not "desperate" nor "ridiculous". He'd simply been requesting she uphold the deal her father had agreed to centuries ago.
He'd been very patient, all things considered, in waiting so long and not simply taking her by force (which he had several opportunities to do so).
He'd waited, and he'd been rewarded when she came crying and begging for his help, spinning a tale of her uncle's betrayal and her father's demise. It wasn't the most happy circumstances for a wedding, but it was a contract fulfilled and that was all Tristan had asked for.
But, of course, Freya was not so easily pleased. She wanted her father found faster, she wanted Klaus' death to be more painful, she couldn't make up her mind on if she wanted Elijah dead as well..... It was all rather exhausting.
Tristan couldn't make his witches work faster, nor could he capture two Original vampires at a speed that she desired. But, there was one complaint he would indulge her whims in.
Tyla Lockwood had showed up in their chambers one day. She was rude, low class, and didn't seem to want to actual be there. Freya had spun a story about her own plans to kill Klaus that she changed her mind on - something about turning blood into poison, Tristan hadn't followed much of her logic - and now Tyla was "their" responsibility.
He'd disagreed, of course, but she'd found a solid argument.
"You've failed me as a husband. Not one night of our marriage have you brought me suitable pleasure. If you're going to insist on this farce of a union, I insist on enjoying it."
Tristan was not an unreasonable man. If his wife was unhappy, he would indulge her whims where he could.
Besides, he thought to himself as he watched Tyla bury her face between Freya's thighs, it makes for a very nice show.
Version 2: Attic Wives
Freya hadn't left their room in over a week. Tyla was fairly certain the only reason she'd eaten at all was that she'd brought the blood in for her.
She understood it, of course. Elijah and Klaus, who she had been trying to trust again because of Hope, had gone behind her back and arranged a deal. Freya's hand in marriage in exchange for Rebekah's safe return home.
Always and forever indeed.
On top of that, Freya had been forced to make another deal for Tyla's life. She could wear iron bracelets, cutting her off from using magic, or Tristan would've served her Tyla's heard on a silver platter.
If she hadn't been wearing a muzzle during those "negotiations", Tyla would've begged her not to do it. But part of her wonders if she would've listened.
"I could bite him," Tyla murmured, gently rubbing Freya's back while they laid in bed.
"The rest of them would kill you."
"I can bite more of them."
"There's too many for you to fight."
Tyla kissed her neck. "Not if you break those bracelets off."
"I can't," she whispered. "Not without the Sisters. And they won't go against the Strix."
She turned over and buried her face in Tyla's neck. "I can't get us out of this," she whispered. "I-I'm sorry I-"
Tyla kissed her softly. "Don't. It's not your fault."
"But-"
"Hey, we'll figure it out. We always do, remember?"
“You’re making this harder than it has to be.” Hope dropped her on the floor, right next to the bed.
Ambrosia shivered and stayed on the ground. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to know what would happen if she did.
The bite on her neck throbbed, irritating the wound where her location chip had been ripped out.
“I’m not going to kill you,” she continued. “You can leave after I get what I want. But the more you fight, the more you run away, the more I have to handle you, the longer this takes. We can’t even do any more work today because your blood is infected with my venom. You’ve just made this longer than it has to be. Do you understand that?”
Rebekah had made her bold, she realizes a few years too late. Rebekah had taught her how to be strong. Rebekah had given her hope. Rebekah had filled her with so much confidence and fire that there had been no room left for uncertainty or fear.
But Rebekah was gone now.
In the early days, she thought it might have been easier if Elijah had been there. Elijah had always made her feel safe. Where Rebekah had taught her how to be strong, Elijah had taught her how to use that strength. He had taught her caution, how to hide. He had taught her how to rely on him for those strengths which Rebekah could not teach her.
Elijah had come to them, and then he had left. He had fought with Klaus, argued for what felt like hours, and then he had left.
He had left and he had not taken Carlotta with him.
Her strength and her safety had left her.
All that remained was her. And Klaus.
Without her strength to embolden her and her safety to shield her, she was herself again.
Polite. Smiling. Gentle. Silent.
Let him touch you. Let him kiss you. Let him hold you. Let him hold you down. Let him bite you. Let him call you by the name of another.
Let him do what he pleased. Let him use you. Let him pretend it was love. Let him take and take and take and take and take and pray that it would be enough to save you.
