"Have you ever been in love? How does it feel?" was always one question I found myself asking before I came to know her. I was in love with her. Sometimes I talk about it and it seems like I cannot even believe myself when I say it. What kind of person would I literally disrupt my sleeping schedule for, just to have a conversation, just to write to her? This was the question that entangled my brain. She sure was special, I said to myself.
Dear Princess,
Seven days of love, how is the seminar? Are you enjoying it? It has not been easy days for me, not in regard to the seminar, but in checking other things, but I am finding the touch of all this. I promise you shall not lack.
Do you know about a flower called wild flower? When I first saw you, I thought of such a flower. I liked you instantly. Wild flowers are my favorite.
Do you enjoy winters, or are you fond of summers? Do you enjoy books, or are you yearning for plays? How about we visit one of Shakespeare's delicacies, away in the center of Rome? Surely, Rome has already risen from what they call its ruins, an empire of great writers and poets indeed.
I have been meaning to ask you much, like the white gloves you wear. I notice you like them tight and not as loose as your sister's. I notice the openings. Or are they just shoes? Apologies for my grammatical and inevitable lack of knowledge on women's shoes, but I so love them. I can't help but ask too, do you like them heeled or flat, like some princess in an iconic fairy tale? How do we believe in fairy tales if we have little to no idea where they come from? My philosophy professor always stated, "The mind is bound into no boundaries; it has the freedom no human would ever love." I love fairy stories. When I was young, I would imagine the moving gray clouds were fairies in anger, seeking to explode into the fumes of rains and waters. Until a friend told me, I thought that I was damaged beyond repair. Was I? Was the question I always found myself asking.
I have no liking for quiet rooms. They remind me of my solitude. It is more of a torturous place, reminding me of my detachment from society.
It is late, and I am tired. I haven't been tired like this in the longest of years. I would love to say, with no judgment from you, I have never been this tired. The man shall manage. You have no worry to carry on my behalf.
When I am to marry you, I will visit your courtroom often. Am I right to say this? I care not for that. I wish we could merge our courtrooms. I wish to say, I hear they sleep in different rooms. It shall break me when you decide to follow some of these societal roles. I shall break them for you.
Today I speak much, maybe it's being tired, or I miss you so much.
Oh, when I was in Iraq, I missed no day, not thinking of you. What she was doing, who she was dancing with, with whom will she accept his hand, has she forgotten about me, does she love me no more… I thought of you, and now you are to be my wife. Confessing is the only way I can take this off my chest.
I wish you to know that you make me the happiest man, either dead or alive. I mind not stating, for me, you are to be my happiness.
I shall make the best home for you. Hurts knowing you shall have me with a part, a rotten part of me, 'bastard.'
However, I shall prove to you, bastards never loose in wins of class and power, especially if family is subject.
Willock.
I realized I had written more than the intended words. I had confessed a lot, and again I found my heart aching. Everybody knew Willock was a bastard, of course, but none dared say it out loud, not even the evasive and lousy stout Baron, who always wanted Father's position. No one dared, as if anyone did, it was like bleeding and dirtifying the hands and names of the hefty and feared Duke of Bavdon. Father was feared by all, even the King, respected him as much; he never questioned him as much. So anyone who dared to call me a bastard would face the drums ringing inside their ears. Except the queen, she was just one lousy witch who thought of nothing but herself and her lacking big-headed princes; he bore the King three, and the rest, 'bastards'. I always find myself laughing when I imagine how slippery and clumsy the King was. He may have had too many concubines; he was allowed to, anyway. But of all bastards, Willock was the unlucky one. He just lived no life of a prince, but I sure would never yearn to have a mother like that Queen. She was a witch; I mind no language stating that. She wanted me dead. I mean dead. State the word with fierceness, as that's how my mind replayed the name 'dead', dead, dead.
Roosters woke people up in this country. They screamed loud. London never kept hens and cocks; they surely would have been stolen by the next daylight. Today the clouds were gray; they lay low near the earth. Of course, winter was approaching. I shall have my wedding during rains; that was never my intent. I hated rains; I hated the cold that came during winter. It froze everything up, and all a man would do is work while he stayed at home, making sure his horses were warm and bore no diseases. Any cold in them would lead to one of the worst calamities a royalty would ever wish: death of horses. They were too expensive, and they had the best part of a man's heart. Like the way I loved my big white horse; it was my boy, strong and evasive, with the hairs lengthy with some brown layers. It was strong, and the way it neighed on my arrival, I once called it Dee, and the word felt womanly. It was a man, a boy, no, a man. If it were a real human, it would bring me down in one swift. I walked with it everywhere, and when it was tired, it held its head low, and I knew my boy was not ready for another walk. And we would rest at the nearest hotel. I loved it. If it were a girl, it would be Diana. Sometimes I talked to it as if it were her, especially during the blossoming of my love for her. When I left the ballroom and all those fights, I told it, "Hey, this woman is beautiful, her hair, her face, her voice." It knew everything, and I imagined it laughing with me, until I left for Iraq, and it somehow forgot me. But it seems the bond is getting stronger now. It neighs now. It does. As my little princess is doing, she is finally, she has finally accepted my love.
"The day is huge. We shall meet the Baron, but first Ezron. And then, I need this letter delivered to the princess. I need it. Give me one guard, and the other deal with that letter. Make sure it is with the princess. If not, I shall cut your salaries. You wish not that," I stated to the guards who made sure the palace was safe as I took my guard, who was used to delivering, and left to look for Ezron. Ezron was sure being hot-headed, but he shall be my right-hand man, liking it or not. I need him in my park. I need him.
Tomorrow will also have a lot in store. I shall leave for England, Lake of Tigris, the shipments, and visit that tailor. How am I to tell a woman to never dare press her lips unto me ever? Sometimes I heard women were creatures who had all control on men. I took it lightly then. How am I to know if I never had experienced such kind of love? However, I shall know how to deal with her. I seek no feelings for her, but it seems I am more scared of having an approach onto her. How do people deal with two women, I found myself in question. And now Ezron being hot-headed, I really need to have a grip on myself. I needed to focus on what I needed to do. I needed to, and the industries. I knew this was a lengthy journey, but already one of the industries was given freely after the king came. He demanded it back. Now I had to work with this Baron I was set to meet. I hope he does not dare call me a bastard, for it will lead to the worst of disaster he would ever live for. I now understood the society. I needed not to be looked down on ever again. I needed to keep my chin up. But why did bastards from royalties never taken lightly as bastards from flower girls? Bastards from those girls were just people, while us, it was like passing your hand on the biggest of flames, and I was not in loving of it. Now I needed to meet Ezron and the rest of the man I needed to meet. I hoped it would work out. If it does, I might not have to detail it in this writing, as, what is the point to do it, if it doesn't? Well, I won't even remember it. Anyway, it was a yes, or yes.