"Nobody may judge rightly, Maister door blocker. In the end your and mine are subjective truths. The weight of blood on your hands, and the weight on mine may be the same in the end. Stop hating yourself or it will ruin you."
Absence take up the space of his caress, a sense of loss coming to flood me over. The conversation cut as though a thread to a scissor, as though a paper torn unevenly with pieces ushered under the carpet. A connection that cannot be put back.
"I misconstrued. The moral woman I thought you were would've plunged me to condemnation. But you- You are cruel in the kindest ways. It would be better if you called me vile, if you looked at me and sneered in contempt. By doing this, do you know what you've done to me?"
It was at that moment that I understood. This man wanted a pain that goes beyond the bones. To stick me like a thorn in his cartilage, there to connect and ruin the pieces of his life. Be his harbinger of love and demise of everything love is. But I become much crueler than that. In the glimmer of an equally dead firefly circling around his corpse, I turn into his lifelong comrade.
Just enough to give him hope of a relationship.
Just enough make him realize its not real.
I turn into a warmth that only exist in hidden semantics.
"You cannot force me to hate you, maister. We are, afterall, the same death under different skins. Even if you try to deny it, I understand the circumstances which might cause you to succumb, henceforth, my judgement of you will forever be filled with empathy."
'I understand you- maister'
The man slides back his undoubtedly wet cloak back on, reversing the process of drying to the beginning. Perhaps it is the need to cover himself up. Perhaps it is the artificial sense of warmth. Or the intentional slip into a decadent mindset.
He walks over to the windows and opens them fully, letting the evening breeze tussle his locks, I knew then that this was farewell. That instead of forgiving himself, this man has decided to run away. That the only door he has truly blocked was his own.
"I take my offer back. There are no boundaries in your words." Any future between us was probably discarded alongside the towel on the floor. For him that's all I ever was, used and no longer valuable goods. "Farewell, Athaliah Leighton."
The man vaults over the balcony, his legs kicking the trees nearby to propel himself towards the first-floor veranda. Out of anxiety, I rush to the railings, my eyes glued on his solitary figure. His legs were as unbroken as steel, as they carried him further into the greenery.
Not once did he look back. The breeze blew again, another pile of leaves blown into my room, his figure has long departed and obscured under cover of the sullen night, yet by the touch of autumn, a part of him stays on my shoulders.
'May we never meet again, maister.'
I retreat into the confines of my room and threw the towel into the laundry basket. Laying down on the slightly wrinkled bed sheet with frustration of the following scenes that would ensue. My dress is too ruined by stains of water to be presentable. There is no time to return to the banquet.
The ceilings glared at me and I returned the gesture. Somehow, it started to spin. I pulled the sides of the blanket on me to reduce the chill spreading to my body. Too lazy to move yet unable to simply endure the seemingly dropping temperature.
"Princess Athaliah, the entire banquet was in a commotion missing your beauty and here you are mopping around!" A familiar voice echoed within the empty room, I tilt my head to the side and see baroness Bernice massage her temples. "How many times do I have to tell you to close the windows?"
The baroness went to close the airway off but stands in front of the balcony, seemingly in thought until she grabbed a strand of brown hair from the floor. Immediately she looked at me in reprimand and question. But I couldn't bother with anything.
Annoyed by my lack of reaction, baroness Bernice came and shook me furiously. Or so she intended, but she changes her plans once she realized something was off. Instead opting to feel my forehead several times only to sigh.
"You have a fever. I have a multitude of questions. But, I will wait another time."
I do not recall what occurred. My memory in flashes. Before I knew it I had already changed clothes and laid down on the bed with new blankets stacked on top of me. An additional cloak on top of it. Seeing it reminded me of the man from before.
Amidst the buzz of voices, I clutch the differently silky cloth, it was a brighter shade of red but reminiscent enough to make me feel like I managed to catch him in time. That night I slept soundly without the revisitation of recurring nightmares.
A shelter from the howling of the wind.
I slacken and smile in my sleep. The cloak snugged to my face. By the time morning came, my head was still in a buzz and a wet cloth pressed on my forehead. I wait out the illness and ate a light breakfast of mushroom soup. My favorite vegetable after an exhausting day. I suppose there is a bright side to everything.
Just when the third spoonful entered my mouth, I was briefed of yesternight's. The same happenings as the year before. Nothing particularly exciting. Watching me contemplate the stagnancy of our court, baroness Bernice feeds me another spoonful of soup. Yet her intentions were not fully out of kindness.
"Recover soon, Your Highness, the emperor's birthday is in two weeks. There are but three days before we depart. Now that you have been declined, it's best if you focus your chase on the Vranid emperor."
The person I thought to be my mother still viewed me as a pawn. I gave a cynical laugh. For better or worse, the man from before was willing to let have the promise of faithfulness. Something I doubt the famously savage Vranid emperor has.
Would it have been better if I played a mindful wife to that stranger?