Simply by the looks of pity in their eyes, I come to realize the plot I am forced to carry out. Mother wants me to seduce my half-sister's fiancé.' As a person who values the traditional values of loyalty and siblinghood. As a person who has a conscience. The world around me feels like it was about to shatter. Like the tick of a clock about to burst.
"This cannot be. What of Ingrid's life, what of the love they share?" I mutter incoherently, the stress that bubbles within me causing my speech to be mixed up. For the first time in sixteen years, I am torn apart between filialness and the love of another. There are simply some things I cannot do for the sake of others.
Instead of instantly addressing my confusion, Baroness Bernice merely takes hold of the herb-infused Castile soap and massages it into my unresisting locks, the slight touch of gentleness breeding patience into my bursting anger at this sheer nonsense. Conflicting urges of obedience to different things clawing apart my heart.
There is no possible way for me to defy the one whom I loved most.
I know that, yet I still seek for an escape from the eyes of Baroness Bernice, only to be pushed by the ripples of understanding love. Finding assurance that tells me this is the best way for both myself and my mother. That this is the way to survive and hold power.
"The court has been unsettled these past few days. Lady Vilma's position is in danger. It is your support that she needs. She has sheltered you for so long these past few years, fly from these nests and bring back branches, Your Highness, Princess Athaliah."
Something in my heart contracted then, the hands pulling my hair and touching my scalp feeling like someone implanted something inside them. To ease the feeling, I sink myself under the water for a moment's time, away from the influence of her words, away from the way she told me to steal from someone to consolidate my beloved's position.
Eventually, my lungs ran out of air, and there is no other choice but to surface. However, what greeted me was still the same sight. Control disguised as love. The prioritization of power over morality. Intimidation for me to fulfill her dreams. There is simply no other choice but to succumb.
"... I understand. I will sway him even if it means tempting him by guilt or interest, one way or another I will have his heart in my palms." Something in me died that day, an innocence that was robbed of me.
Waters of regret cling unto my body and were dried to be replaced by the fragrance I come to resent. The clothes that hang on my body feel like snakeskin. And I desperately want to take it off, despite its stunning beauty. This is too heavy of a thing to do to my dear sister.
Noticing the decay that has begun to slither in my enthusiasm. Baroness Bernice changed the narrative. Even with the knowledge, the blame should never be on the tempted, but on the tempter and humans are inherently weak, I bit into the all too comforting lie.
"Do you think a man so easily seduced deserves your sister?"
I stood stunned, and it came to my mind that in the past, present and future there surely are many who attempted to do such deeds. Surely, I will be rejected as they are. I had that much confidence in his moral character. And I know somewhere that it is self-righteousness, but I came to think that if he was so easily shaken, an immoral man he must've been.
"No. Lady Bernice, only a chivalrous man may wed my noble sister."
Yet, that reassurance still could not wash away my guilt and relief had yet to grace me as they took off the dress for some modifications due to the fact the party was still eleven hours away. During the moments when I was left alone, I come to seek for some way to alleviate myself of this crushing feeling and went to confess my sins.
Maybe it's due to the fact I am in the midst of a floral sanctuary, but the sunlight shining through felt like heavenly beams of forgiveness, and the walk into the prayer room like threads of destiny. Many found me odd for coming here be it in the dead of the night or the break of dawn. Still, I often entered this place throughout childhood just as a respite from all the missions I had to do. All the information gathering, all the socializing, all the learning of immoral things and tactics. A place where I can be a child and be safe. A space that doesn't judge me for who I am and not is.
As usual, I headed towards the confession stall. Oddly enough, I always chose the times the priest wasn't there. It just felt more personal and fulfilling. To know only God hears and judges. That I have been truly forgiven without remorse.
"Forgive me, Lord, for I do not know what I may commit. The pull to sin is like a rope holding me from falling to a ground of blades. There is simply no way out. I know You have the power to deliver me. So I beg of you to reach out Your hand and show me a path. Deliver me, father. For I know you made me be holy in Your image. And I simply cannot steal my sister's fiance. Cannot lower myself to seduce a faithful man."
I knelt with sincerity, barring reservation from revealing my worries and need for help. Before I know it, quivers appear in my voice as tears fall down. My face all dribbling with dilemmatic fears condensed into vulnerability like a call for help, drenching my clothes and long lilac sleeves. Yet I could not stop myself from earnestly praying.
"This trial is too heavy for me to take. Relinquish me of this, my Lord. I cannot jeopardize my mother. I cannot ruin her for who birthed me. Cannot trade my forgiveness for hate. All I ask is for a way out, even if it goes against my expectations. I know You are capable, I know You care for me. I know I am limited in sight, that is why I surrender and beg of You. If you may, If you will, let me have a love that surpasses love itself, if You will allow me to partake in that joy too. Do grant me, what You desire for me and the capability to be content with it."
The air in the room felt as if it is alive. As if my voice is carried away by the wind and heard by the most almighty. As if solace was all my heart ever truly have and my prayer have already been granted. Yet in that moment, where everything felt right, an anomaly occurred, when nobody was supposed to be there, I hear the windows towards the other confessional room being opened.
"You came to ask God to take your free will away?" A voice that took me off guard resounded. Like frost flowers blooming in the middle of my ears. Hypnotic. As though a chance that came in a lifetime. I stand up and peer in the window only to have my breath taken away.
He was like an amalgamation of beauty. Of fallen stars and sunlight merging in the gravity of his dark brown copper hair and the vitality of his hazel eyes. There was this cloak of solitude dwelling upon him, as though the sandy beige of his skin was constructed of sand. As though he was an entire desert, a land of calamity and devastation that people avoided on sight.
The bearing of a storm.
Yet, I didn't lose composure. There is no wind that can truly shake me down. Questions are meant to be answered, and if this mysterious man desires a piece of me, that he shall have. I strip myself of the smile I was trained to have and respond in solemness. In the seriousness I usually never showcase.
"What better choice can I have than trust the one who created the very notion of wisdom? He is the one who created fate and has the power to alter it. The one with the foresight of all my joys and happiness."
Inadvertently, the man in front of me seem slightly offended. Pressure exerted on me to take back what I said. Still, I didn't change my stance. A very funny thing it is. To think that one man's opinion outweighs the other.
"You would consider it a miracle even if the escape of one fate led to a more catastrophic one?" The man speaks with a bitterness that seeps into the bone. As though he was speaking from personal experience and challenges the very notion of compassion. A blade in his voice that pains me and rouse pity in my heart.
"There is no such thing such as a catastrophic faith for those who truly pleads and believe." I returned, there was never doubt regarding it. Because if I started destroying the foundations of salvation, if I weeded out hope before it was ever formed. What is the use of effort and wishes?
Silence sweep the room for a moment. The man seeming to leave and out of sight as the door opens. I nearly went back down to kneel when the door of my booth was opened and I am met with a figure far taller than me. A six feet tall male clad in a robe of black fur and within it a shirt so dark red it may very well be black.
"You are an interesting woman I'll give you that. So naive yet determined. I want you for myself." Out of nowhere, the man extends his right arm to me, an invitation to enter a bondage that would tie myself to him. Somewhere in the depths of his mirthful eyes, I felt like he wanted to observe me to see if I would wither or flourish. "Marry me, will you?"