There is a certain tension in the room. Like a rope about to split. The domination of his words hurled at me without recompense. Yet, despite such a fitting solution before my eyes, I surprise myself with the words that naturally came out of my mouth. "With all due respect, I do not marry brutes with no knowledge of courting. When we do not even know each other's names, how can we marry?"
I stretch my neck up slightly to catch a better glimpse of his expression. Empty eyes and a grin too sardonic to match his supposed interest. There must be a reason behind this sudden proposition. From his luxurious clothing, he doesn't seem to be one to aim for status. And to be here in this palace at this given time, his identity as a guest is confirmed.
Still, I do not remember seeing someone so magnetic within the sphere of friendly royals. A crucial matter considering how I've spent my entire childhood socializing. For a moment, I wondered if he was an illegitimate child or a royal from a faraway country. There was no doubt about his status, there is just this instinctive nobility emanating from him. As though the kingdom he stepped on is his to rule.
So, when the mysterious man decided to ignore my rejection and continue his pursuit, I wasn't quite shaken. He has already taken me for possession. A possibility I do not view as ideal. Is it too much to ask for true love in waters of political concessions? "Names are but a form of identity. I've seen enough to know you. Know enough to want you. It's as simple as that."
His hand still outstretched, I stood there with both hands folded in front of me. There are too many things unknown about him. What matters is whether or not this marriage is going to be useful. And even if by chance love comes to play, I clearly didn't know anything about this man at all.
There is no way this is the escape I ought to have. I reminded myself and made sure to call out every little bit of imposition in me. If he wouldn't stop blocking the way, I'd have to scare him out of it. "But you are not what I seek. I am an ambitious woman. I seek power, crave it, to the point I would carve out a throne even if it meant injuring my hands. Do you have that, the capability to change the world, maister door blocker?"
The man merely chuckles, low reverberant music crawling into my ears. Such an odd thing considering there is nothing particularly humorous in my speech. It took a while before whatever came over him passed and the conversation resumes.
His hand that hung in the air come closer to approach, and I resist the urge to flinch. A real woman is always poised. Yet, I couldn't help but be unsettled when he reaches in for a lock of my waist-length strands and twirls it ever so gently with his fingers. I am left unsure how to feel about it. The ghost of a smile and a frown edges away from appearing on my confused lips.
"Enough to change the world before you. Yes. But, enough to satisfy a romanticist's heart? No." Just as my scalp felt ticklish by the gentle tugging of my hair, the man in front of me lets go, instead reaching out for my hand once more. "I wouldn't rip out my heart for you to toy with nor lay down my robe for you to step on, but marry me, and I promise to never cheat on you. To be a faithful husband till death do us apart."
I was stuck in a dilemma. To never witness an affair. To behave faithfulness still in marriage, which human doesn't yearn for such a thing. Yet I come to grow fearful, for the expectation another man simply cannot fulfill. When I am the product of one, how can I expect such a thing from a stranger whose name I do not even know?
Noticing how the road is still blocked, I have no choice but to grab his hand, not to accept but to shove it away. The grasp of his secure palms made me reconsider, though the rough callouses of his hands didn't. A proof of his time with the sword.
"Faithfulness doesn't come as easily as said. To you, marriage may very well be a game. But to me, it is sacred and life-changing. Do not say something you cannot hold." I challenge him, whilst trying to make his strong arms budge to which in my dismay I have failed. Pity my weak muscle strength.
Being held for so long made me realize the warmth pulsing in his arms, like currents trying to find their way into my cold ones. Such a juxtaposition of how we appear to be. Cold, cynical eyes and a wholly detached expression on a man with warm hands. And a demure, sweet appearance on a woman whose coldness begins in the heart.
I struggle with denying how in that way we complement each other in the most broken ways. Like jigsaw puzzles that were meant to click. But that's not how humans were made, a broken vase cannot miraculously fix the other.
"And yet it is you who have judged. I may be many things, but dishonest is not one of them. Marry me, Athaliah." Not even able to focus on the rude way he disregard my title, I am rampaged by the confusion on what to say, whether I should argue futilely or abruptly decide to marry a stranger whose name I do not even know when a ray of hope appears out of nowhere. "But, very well, if it is time you need, I shall give it."
The scandalously handsome man in front of me turned to the side, and very gently pulled me out. A controlled strength I didn't think someone who looked as insouciant as him would be able to perform. And for the first time since the conversation, I was able to walk out of the booth.
Just when I thought he was going to drag me to the altar, the mysterious man instead guided me to the exit, out of the cold building and into the open fields of vibrant hues. It was then, under the freedom of the azure skies, that he slips in a flower into my hair, his fingers brushing against my ears, leaving a slight tingle.
"Come to me and call me by my name, then you will be mine and I yours."
Thankfully, not a thorny rose, but a light red carnation. I simply didn't have the time to think about the gardener's feelings about the changed arrangement, and a blush crept its way into my face. This wasn't the first time I received flowers, but certainly the first time in this manner.
The touch of his fingers on my earlobes-
Stinging
The liberty to have a choice-
Drunkening
I am lost in a dream within a dream
Only to be waken up by the sound of footsteps
Without saying another word, the man left me in a brooding silence. The thump of my heart, the only sound in the quiet breeze. Before he gets too far away, I followed along his steps and hollered out, "Wait, what do you mean by those words?"
I kept following him for reassurance, an explanation, anything. But, even after reaching the end of the field, I received none but a burst of surprisingly warm laughter. And even more cryptic words that I couldn't make sense of.
By the time he left, I went the other way to ensure no one accuse me of having a tryst with that man. Yet, each step of my foot felt heavy, I feared I may trip, mind stuck on thinking of his words. "You will know when it's time."