Epic

6am and I couldn't sleep.

After spending the day with our families, we were exhausted.  Not to mention our own errands and breaks we took between visits... by 9pm Tristan was out cold in my bed and I was minutes from joining him.  But I forgot one little, very important detail: he needs 12 hours to function or anything less makes him walk around like a zombie, while at 8 hours exactly I wake up and can't go back to sleep without spending some energy.  So when we both went to bed at 9pm, he would be fresh and ready at 9am while I'd be awake for three hours beforehand, wondering what the heck do I do in the dark morning.

I rolled out of bed to use the bathroom, then slid back in with the idea that I'd just blog for a while until I would tire again.  But the second I slid under the covers, Tristan rolled over in his sleep, slipped an arm around me and lay his head on my shoulder.  He was warm, comfy, and in minutes I was asleep again.

Tristan once said that our story would either be one of the greatest love stories of all time, or the greatest tragedy.  For almost two years I was thinking it was a tragedy, but now...what can I say?

When I was 13 I lived in an apartment with my mother and sister, a place we had found in a hurry after fleeing my adopted father.  It was just in the county seat, and a nice place, but it was also a constant reminder that the things I had shoved away in my mind from when I was only 2 were happening again.  The running, the hiding, and the constant yelling.  I hated the yelling.  And in this particular night, Mom was on the phone yelling at her soon-to-be-ex-husband over something, crying, begging for peace...and I was in my room by the window, trying to block it all out.  I didn't want to hear it happening all over again.  Most of all, I didn't want to go through it myself, especially if I were to have children.  So I slid to my knees and begged God to spare me of the same fate, to be specific and force me to be only with the one man He chose for me.  I cried, begged, pleaded for God to just let me have this one thing in life, a love story greater than any other, something for the ages, someone handpicked for me so I wouldn't go through the heartache that filled the world around me.

I had no idea that He already knew I would ask for that.  I didn't know that when I was only 5 a boy from the stars was hidden on this planet by his father to keep him safe.  When I was growing up I thought my father was a con artist living in California; even my mother had no clue that he was actually one of the top agents in a ghost division of Special Ops, and a trainer for a group of boys that included the one from the stars.  The boy grew up to love and admire his trainer like a father, never knowing the other man who befriended him and kept a close eye on him was his real father.  When my father was framed, the boy who was becoming a man wanted revenge and chose me to be the target.  When he was exiled, his own father declined to accompany him and eventually became a friend of mine, someone I looked to for help and guidance.  Then one day the boy who was now a man came home and met me, thinking he'd finally get the chance to finish what he started.

Tristan said it was something in my face.  All the anger and hatred he had towards me for just being my father's daughter dissolved into something that worried him.  It took two years of dancing on the edge of sanity, of reconciling the events of our lives that inexplicably bound us together whether we liked it or not, to come to an acceptance that no matter how much we struggled, God had something planned for us that has been in the works since before we were born.

All these things floated in my mind as I lay there in bed, my hand caressing Tristan's arm where it wrapped around my waist.  Only God could make such an incredible story, an epic saga of an exiled prince and a half-human seer bound together by something greater than we can truly understand.