Drowning Alone In A Vast Ocean
I opened my eyes just as the shroud was placed on my head, blurring my vision. I cared not, it was fitting I suppose for someone awaiting their execution.
I had been granted the small mercy of spending my last days in father's chambers. Or what was left of it. I could barely recognize it anymore, stripped of everything that had made it my home for 17 years. The tapestries bearing our crest of twin violet-hued blue hyacinths on a field of white, worn and greyed, the great table carved from the finest rosewood, bare of the personal effects it once housed. What truly made it evident that the home had long lost its master was the smell, or the distinct lack of it. The warm scent of spring that always accompanied father, wafting from his pendant, now forever lost.
All that remained was me. Drowning alone in a vast ocean, with no sign of land.
"Do not make the court wait any longer, Lady Carys" The maid said, as she bowed and took her leave, having finished her tedious task of preparing me.
I wonder if she had been in my service before. Her rough handling of my hair as she styled it into modest braids would suggest otherwise. I had always preferred my hair free, then again, so had my soul been then. It wouldn't matter either way. I couldn't remember any of their faces, their names too had long left my mind. I had for long, let my mind, body, and soul be willingly consumed by one man. Now that I strive to let him go, my choice has been stripped away.
Clanging footsteps interrupted my thoughts. An aged knight, I assumed, from the way he dragged his feet as he climbed the winding steps of the old tower. Their service to the crown now reduced to minor chores of vanity.
He stopped at the last step, not making any move to step inside, nor to call upon me.
For all that had transpired over these months, I found myself unable to resist any further. A strange calm washed over me. I stood up slowly, the robes weighing me down like a tombstone. I walked towards him, my feet dragging as I withstood the force of the long train of my robes, that cascaded behind me like shackles.
"You'll trip over yourself, Lena. Why are you in this long gown?"
"I asked a maid to borrow a couple from Lady Oswent. She walks in her sleep. Seeing her roaming around at night wouldn't rouse father's suspicion."
"It matters not. We are betrothed. We shall be man and wife in the eyes of the masses, nobles, and Those Above in mere moons."
"Yes, and until then, we're an unwedded lord and lady, meeting without a chaperone, in the hour of the owl in the Chamber of Books, doing things that would surely send Lord Carys into an early grave."
"I cannot speak for you but I'm here gaining knowledge, my lady, as is the chamber's purpose."
"Knowledge, is it? And pray tell me what have you learned these past three moons?"
"You see my Lady. I am to be married. And to have a merry wedded life, one must learn to please their wife."
"I have learned that biting you under the right earlobe sends shivers down your spine, compelling you to pull at my hair. I have learned that you like to end your dayfall meals with sweet berries, having tasted them on your tongue. I have learned that when I open your folds, nudging the hood and stroking what it hides, you clench on my fingers till you reach the pinnacle. I've learned that when I push into your wet folds, you hold me tighter, until you sheath me in warmth that reduces me to a man guided by his primal needs. I've learned that when I move in you, you use your hips to take in more of me. I've learned that every time I leave your warmth, you tense around me, reluctant to let me go."
"Is that all you've learned then? Primal needs and desires of the body."
"Our bodies are the canvas, Lena, minds the paint, and our love, the envy of great many artists across this world and all others. I know you hide little laughs at Lord Fallon's antics, that you would rather run around in Lord Carys's robes than the heavy dresses the Matron likes to force upon you, that your tongue can cut clean through chest puffing noble sons, that if not for your distaste for eyes upon you, your skill with the flute could enchant entire realms. But, most of all I know, without you this mind would have been without thought, this body but flesh and bone, heart without thrum, and no soul even in the deepest depths of my being."
"Who is the artist then?"
"Why, our fathers, of course. Our hearts are already one, Lena."
As I crossed the threshold, losing pieces of myself with each step forward, I took one last look back.
He stood a mere seven steps behind. Both familiar and stranger. His brilliant blue eyes met mine in the mirror, eyes that had looked upon me as if I were his cherised rose in a garden of thorns. Eyes now timged violet with the reddish tinge engulfing them. His olive skin that flushed with desire during our nights together had lost all colour. His pronounced smiles, deepening every time he laid his eyes on me, supplanted by a vacant gaze. Waiting in silence, when once those lips brushed against my earlobes to whisper secrets.
As I entwined my arm around his, I remembered all the times I had done so before. All was same, except the desire in my heart has been swallowed by dread.
I thought I had known pain, that I had felt horror, that lived through unceasing grief. Fate had laughed at my delusions. What awaited me was far worse.
