Cousin of the Crown, Chapter Five

Or, better late than never.  Sorry for the delay.  I went to post this on Wednesday and Blogger was down.  All the chapters published so far are under the tab at the top 'Cousin of the Crown.'

Thanks yet again for reading.  Let me know what you think.

E. T.

Cousin of the Crown, Chapter Five
By:  Elisabeth Treble

“Leaving?”  Lahdel gaped at me.  “No! You cannot leave me!” she said, tears in her eyes.

“Just for awhile,” I lied.  I was never coming back here.  “I miss my parents, my family.”

“But, who will be my friend?” she cried.

I laughed.  “Everyone is your friend, you goose!  Everyone is madly in love with you.”

Except Terran.

“Come, don’t be such a brat.” I scolded.  “I’ll go away for a few weeks and be back for the Snow Festival.”

Lahdel’s pout didn’t ease.

“Besides,” I said, elbowing her lewdly.  “You’ll have plenty to keep you occupied, don’t you think?”

She went brilliant scarlet.  “Alea!”

I sniffed.  “Come, give me permission.  Or I’ll leave without it and you’ll have to order me banished or executed.”

Lahdel gasped, horrified.  “I would never!”

“Then I must go.” I said firmly.  I had to.  I had to get out of the palace.  I had to get as far from Terran as I could.  I had to sleep; I hadn’t slept in days, my nights filled with terrible nightmares of Lahdel’s death at my hands.  Or nights spent with Terran, aching for him.  “I’ll say hello to everyone, I promise.”

I had the arrangements already made.  I took my leave of the king and queen that afternoon, none of the pomp and careful planning needed to move a princess across three countries.  A ship waited to carry me across the lake, then a swift carriage over the pass and home.

“We will miss you,” the queen said.  “Come back to us soon.”

“I will.” I lied again.  “As soon as I can.”

Gulin had a wounded expression that stabbed at me.  He followed me out to the waiting horses.

“Alea,” he pleaded, low and intense.  I stilled my hands on my horse’s stirrup.  I turned to face him.

“Gulin,” I said gently.

His expression went wooden.

“Enough,” he said.  “You don’t have to say it.”

For an instant, I considered it.  He would love me and care for me.  I did like him.  He was kind and funny and handsome.  He looked like Terran, so much they could be twins.  That decided it for me.

I shook my head.  “Can we be friends?”

“Alea!”

“You deserve someone who loves you, Gulin.  I like you.  A lot, but not enough.”

He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair.  “I hate it when you are like this.”

“Like what?”

“Honest.”

“Would you rather I lied to you?” I demanded.

“Yes,” he snapped, glaring at me.  “Yes, Alea.  I would.”

I shook my head frantically.  “No, Gulin.  It would be terrible.  You would hate me, because I could not love you.”

“Why not?” He demanded.  “Why can’t you?”

“I-” I bit back my words.  Because I love your brother, destined to marry my cousin.  I love him with every part of my being.  It would be a lie, to marry Gulin.  Terran had to supplant me through duty.  I would not hurt Gulin the same as I was hurting Lahdel.

Gulin growled under his breath, swearing.  “You’re right, as always.” He said finally.

“I know.”  I tried to joke.  He didn’t smile.

“You will forgive me if I am not here when you return?”

“Where are you going?” I asked, alarmed.

He shrugged.  “Away from here.  For a while.  Away from Terran and his perfect bride and their perfect marriage.”

I gasped; I couldn’t help it.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said, smiling as brightly as I could.  He eyed me narrowly.  All at once he stepped close and kissed me.

“There,” he said, his voice rough.  “It is done.  Go home, Alea.  I will see you again.”

I watched him stalk back to the palace, the guards carefully looking everywhere but at us.  I raised my eyes.  Terran was standing at a window above and to the side of the wide doors.  I turned away, hiding my face.

I wanted to stay here.  I wanted to marry Gulin.  Then I would have a piece of Terran, a pale shadow, but as close as I could have.

I mounted stiffly, settling my skirts.  It would be a disaster.  It would only be a matter of time before we broke down, meeting somewhere in the endless corridors, betraying those we had sworn fidelity.  One of us had to go and I was the one without a crown.

I clucked to the animal and it lurched forward.  I could feel Terran’s eyes on me, feel his heart breaking as mine had done, that afternoon in the gardens.

I had never been so happy to see my mother.  I jumped from the carriage before it had even stopped moving and rushed into her arms.  She held me close, squeezing me breathless.

“My darling Alea!” she said.  “My little songbird!  How I’ve missed you!”

I dashed tears from my face.  “Oh mama! I’ve missed you, too.”

“Come inside.  The air is too cold to stand about.” She tucked my arm in hers and led the way into the manor.

Nestled back in the hills, it sat with faded dignity, worn enough to be comfortable, but not threadbare.  The fields and little town surrounding it were old and well established, looking like they had risen from the earth herself.  It was beautiful and perfect.

My many brothers, sisters and cousins tumbled about, excited that the eldest was home again.  I spent the first week telling them everything they wanted to know about the palace and the king and queen.  The fireworks were a particular favorite, retold many times.

I slipped easily back into my role as the eldest girl, my mother’s assistant as she managed the lands with my father.  He was away at court, our own palace far to the east.  Mother had an iron will that she dispensed with mercy and fairness.

“I hope I am like you one day,” I said wistfully as she read a letter from one of our land managers.

“Oh?” she asked, making a careful note of something.  “How is that?”

“You are perfect.”  I sighed.

She laughed.  “I assure, my dear, I am far from perfect.  Just ask your father.”

“He thinks you are perfect.”

“That is because he is a fool and in love.”

I had to close my eyes, shutting out the world until I could control my emotions again.

“Have you heard from the princess lately?” she asked after a moment of writing.

“Yes,” I said, keeping my voice carefully neutral.  I wanted to scream and cry and break things.

“The wedding is tomorrow, isn’t it?”

I nodded.  “Yes.”

“Why did you not stay to witness it?” Mother asked, lowering her papers to stare at me.

I shrugged.  “I have seen a dozen weddings; what is this one?”

“It is your cousin marrying the prince of another country,” mother chided.

And the man I love.  I added to myself. The man I dream about every night, the man whose heart I can hear beating in time with mine as I lay awake in the early hours.

“She’ll manage.  I was quite superfluous, in any case.”  I laughed and winced as it rang falsely.  Mother watched me a moment longer.

“You are returning this winter?”

“I said I would try to be back before the snow festival.” I said.  I had it planned very carefully.  The snow would trap me here until spring.  Then the bustle of planting, the long hours tending the grains and cattle.  Then harvest, and the fall storms, the snows again.  If I was careful, I could delay until everyone forgot I should go back, even Lahdel.

“The lake is dangerous to cross in the winter.”

“I know.” I said.  “Say, have you heard what happened to Lady Geora?”

The day of the wedding came and went.  I thought I might feel some sort of change when he spoke the words binding himself to Lahdel forever.  The sun rose and set with its normal grace and unconcern.

I lay for long hours on my bed, weeping silently into my pillow.  I washed my face, splashing cold water on my cheeks and went down to dinner.

“Sing!”  My cousins begged, herding me toward the fireplace.  I laughed, grasping their tiny hands.  The adults were grouped by the warmth, talking in low murmurs.  My father had come home.  He smiled on me, easing some of my heartache.  I was loved and welcomed here.  There was no reason for me to leave, ever again.

I sang until I was falling asleep.  The children were all lying on the rugs, curled up and snoring.  I left them to their parents and went to my rooms again.  My pillow was still wet with tears.

My mother had been giving me increasingly worried glances for a few weeks when a letter arrived from Lahdel.

I took it upstairs, wanting to be alone.  If it was news that she was with child, I was going to throw it the fireplace and never speak to her again.

What it said was much worse.

Dearest Alea,

I wish you would come back to me.  I am in need of you support and advice.  I don’t know what to do.

Here the paper was wrinkled, like it had been crushed in a dainty, smooth skinned fist.  Her ink was blotchy after that, smeared with tear drops.

Terran does not want me.

I gripped the arms of my chair, forcing myself to go on.

I know our match to be political, but I had thought he cared for me, as I cared for him, a partner, a friend.  I do not want or expect his love, but something has changed.

It is mortifying for me to admit it to anyone, but you are my best friend.  How can I not tell you?

He will not come to me.  He refused, even on our wedding night.  He was very kind and gracious, sad even.  But he told me he could not.  ‘I can’t’ were his words.  He does not dance with me anymore; he does not touch me, or smile at me.  He hardly smiles at all.

I do not know what has happened, Alea, and I do not know how to fix it.  Please come back and help me.  I fear he - Oh I can hardly stand to write it!  I fear he has taken a mistress, a lover.  What am I to do?

I couldn’t read any more.  I stood and lurched over to the fire, tossing it in.  I panted before the flames as they flared up consuming the paper in one flash of heat and light.

What was he doing?  What was he trying to achieve?  We could never be together.  It was settled, finished.  I would not fight my duty and he could not fight his.  I would not hurt Lahdel, anymore than I already had.

Our kiss was a weight on my conscious.  The power of it, the intensity; we might as well have lain together.  Our intentions were clear, even if our deeds were chaste.  How many times had I dreamed of it?  I wanted him.  It was wrong and wicked, but I did.  I could not help myself.

And I could not go back.  I would not put myself into that kind of temptation.  I would not do that to Terran.  What was he trying to tell me?

If not for Lahdel!  She was innocent, trapped between us.  She needed me, not knowing I was the cause of her distress and humiliation.  How degrading it must be, to be denied by her husband, shown and told she was not good enough.

My suppressed rage and jealousy flared up before I could control it.

She wasn’t good enough for him.  She was too used to be being perfect, the loveliest, the most beautiful.  Terran didn’t want her.  He wanted me.  Her humiliation was just her pride, her conceit being cut down.

I pressed my hands to my face.

My mother’s hands were soft on my shoulders.

“My little songbird,” she said softly.  “Why do you cry?”

I whirled and pressed into her, sobbing uncontrollably.

“My dearest girl, what is the matter?”

“Mama, I cannot live like this!”

“Like what, dearest?”

“I love Terran!”

She went still.  “The prince?”

“Yes!  I love him, mama, and he loves me.  I cannot stand to think of him married to Lahdel!  The scheming witch!  She stole him from me!”  I gasped, shocked at my own hatred.  “No, I didn’t mean it.  Oh, mama, what shall I do?”

She held me close until I had calmed down.  She drew me to the low couch and pressed me down.

“Tell me everything,” she said gently.

I did my best.  The afternoon in the garden, the weeks between until he kissed me, why I had left.  What Gulin wanted.  She stroked my hair as I cried, until I was too exhausted to do more than shiver.

My father’s hands were larger and heavier, their weight comforting in a way mother’s gentle caresses weren’t.  Not better, just different.

“You know what will happen if you and the prince are together.” He said finally, his voice heavy.

I nodded.  Our countries would split their alliance.  We would fight against, instead of alongside each other, repayment for Terran’s adultery.

“I would never wish that,” I said.  “I know he is lost to me.  What shall I do?”

“I don’t understand?”

“How can I keep living?” I begged him.  “I don’t want to.”

His grip was tight.  “Alea!” He scolded.

I broke down again.  “I’m sorry,” I pleaded.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, papa!”

My parents held me tightly while I cried.  I let them put me in bed, my mother sitting by me.

“Is Lahdel with child?” she asked softly.  I was staring unseeing at the ceiling.

“No,” I whispered hoarsely.  “She wished me to return to comfort her because…”  I swallowed.  “Because Terran will not have her.”

My mother sighed.  “I feared as much.”

“You did?”

“The queen is distressed about her daughter.  She has asked me to send you back to her.”

I cringed.  I had to go now; it was an order from the crown.

“I will go.” I said dully.  “I must.  If only to convince him to do his duty.”

“What is his duty?”

I jerked my head up to gape at my mother.  “Mama!”

She stood slowly, tucking in my covers.  Her voice was quiet when she spoke.  “What is a man’s duty but that which is closest to his heart?”

I stared after her as she left.

Weekend Adventuring

So, another busy weekend.  I'm excited for summer, because, technically, things should calm down then.  I'll believe it when it happens.

As it were, this weekend took me several hundred miles from my home turf.  The climate and ecology in this place are very different than the place where I grew up and it reminded me of an early part of my literary career.

And by early, I mean, just starting to read 'grown-up' novels when I was thirteen or so.  Books like Lord of the Rings.  I was big fan of science-fiction/fantasy books.  Most kids I knew were into that genre at that age.  I still love me a good dragon book, but I was enamored at the particular time especially.  (PS, I still love dragons.  If I could have anything in the entire universe, it would be a dragon.  I think this is why I ride motorcycles.  As close as you can get to flying with actually flying and/or expensive skydiving.)

Taking this trip, I remembered a problem I had with all those fantasy, epic adventure books.  Where I grew up and where I live now are heavily forested.  I used to have a big problem when the books talked about 'moving silently through the trees' or 'tracking' or and other sort of stealthy movement through the woods.

It is impossible to move silently anywhere through any undergrowth where I live.  If it isn't a trail, you can't pass through without sounding like a herd of deer crashing around.  And deer around here actually crash through the bushes.  They've woken me up more than once in my camping life, thrashing around like an elephant as they find beds for the night.  Which probably where all the stories about chucacabras and sasquathces and other hairy, night dwelling creatures come from.  That's what I thought they were, huddled down in my sleeping bag with only my browning-out flashlight for protection against the terrors of the night.  Turns out they were just clumsy dear, but how was I to know?

Anyway, my rambling point is this;  It completely boggled (yes, I said boggled) my mind when I was younger that there were places in the world that weren't exactly like where I was.  That most of the planet is desert still is a strange idea. When a book would talk about a place, it automatically became a version of my local geography and climate, even if the book said something absolutely opposite.  I had a default location setting.

Getting out and seeing more of the country and world, even through pictures and television, is so very important.  Otherwise all my stories would happen in the same place.  I love mapquest/bingmaps/google earth.  I love finding places in Europe that have interesting geological features and putting them in imaginary places, or basing a story in some random town in the Midwest.  You can even look up stores and population numbers and everything you need for a ready to use plot setting.

Saves my brain for the tricky stuff.  Like what the plot actually is.

E. T.

Writer's block is back...sigh...

I had a real streak there for a couple days, but it's back again and is taking its vengeance.

I usually write in a stream of conscious sort of way, leaving exact details blank and going back again to smooth things out.

In my novel, the number and age of siblings and various families members has changed at least a dozen times as I try out different theories.  My main characters are generally set when it comes to big details, but the little side characters, set in place to emphasize a story point or provide a sounding board for the main action, change all the time.

My problem now is I know exactly where I want the story to go.  I just can't make it get there.  The end action and everything is all mapped out in my brain, but I'm stuck in "act two." The act where everything starts to go to pieces just in time for the hero/heroine to step in and do their stuff.

Act one is all about creating a picture of their world and of them.  Who they are, how they act.  Setting up the tensions to explode later.  Now I'm at the exploding part and I can't quite make it work.  grumble, grumble...

I even tried writing the end scenes first, to see if I could bridge the gaps between them, but it didn't feel right.  One of the characters needs to go through an extreme life changing experience before the action climax.  Because he hasn't done it yet, meaning I haven't written it yet, I can't seem to know just how it has affected him.

This all sounds really silly.  He's my character; I can make him do whatever I want.  But sometimes he just won't do what I want.  Or he behaves perfectly, I write three thousand words and I read it and delete it with a grimace because it is absolutely the very last thing he would conceivably do.

Then, like today, I get completely sidetracked on a minor character and write ten thousand words about them and barely get five hundred for the plot that is actually important.  Bah!

E. T.

Cousin of the Crown, Chapter Four

As always, you can read all the chapters posted so far under the tab "Cousin of the Crown" at the top of the page.  Also, there's these nifty things called labels.  Apparently if you click on the 'Cousin of the Crown' label at the bottom of this post, the blog will link you to the other chapters.  Amazing!

E. T.

Chapter Four 

That night I dreamed I murdered Princess Lahdel.

I slipped out of bed, my bare feet silent on the wood floors.  I knew where each squeak would be and stepped carefully around them.  She was sleeping, as beautiful as a sunrise, her lips curved in the faintest of smiles.  Lips that had kissed Terran.

She kicked as I pressed a pillow over her face.  Her hands clenched around my wrists, but I was stronger than her.  I always had been, the insipid, vain fool.  And she did not have the hate that was coursing through me, the despair and jealousy that lent me power over her, crushing her life out, smothering it, every inch of me howling with savage joy.

I woke with a strangled cry.  The sun was rising and Clara paused in the act of pouring fresh water in my basin.

“My lady?” she asked, astonished.

I gasped for air, wrapping my arms around myself to hold in my shudders of horror.

“My lady, are you unwell?” Clara asked, coming to feel my forehead.  “You are very pale!”

“I am well.” I said for what felt the thousandth time since yesterday afternoon.  I was starting to hate those words.  Couldn’t everyone see I was not well, that my heart had been ripped into pieces, that it was lying broken at my feet?  “Just a nightmare.”

“Lie back down,” Clara insisted, trying to ease me to the mattress.

“No.” I snapped.  I did not want to go back to sleep.  I did not want to have to face that again.  I got up, hours earlier than normal.  Clara’s eyebrows were low and scrunched as she dressed me, worried I would do myself harm.

I escaped as soon as I was presentable.  Lahdel was still sleeping.  I turned away my face and left silently.

By midmorning, I was exhausted again.  My restless night and the late hour at which I went to bed were dragging me down.  My voice was noticeably rough, bringing unsolicited advice on how to treat summer fever from all sides.

“Just too much singing,” I said, my vowels catching, breaking.  I made a face and the nice courtier talking with me laughed before moving on.  I escaped to a garden, lush and verdant in the morning sun.

“There you are!”

I looked up from the pool I was staring into, counting the leaves of the lilies.  Lahdel came toward me, laughing.

“I have been looking for you since breakfast.  Were you not hungry?”

“No.” I said.  “I ate too much last night.”

“I heard the fireworks all the way up here.” She said, sitting next to me.  She chatted about our usual topics, every now and then reaching over to touch my hand or squeeze my arm.  I tried not to flinch away.

“Terran!” Lahdel exclaimed.  I didn’t look up, finding a sudden knot in my embroidery threads that needed my attention.  I wasn’t sure I could control my expression just yet.

His strong, browned hand passed into my view, a white bandage wrapped around his palm.

“Your highness,” he returned.  “How is your foot?”

“As good as new,” Lahdel said.  I could hear her smile.  “Alea is a wonderful nurse.”

I laughed, lifting my eyes.  “I can hardly take credit for making you lie down and rest.” I said.  “And I was gone most of the night anyway.  You did your healing on your own, cousin.”

Lahdel squeezed my hand in thanks.

“Speaking of mortal wounds, how is your hand, your highness?”  I looked all the way up to his face.  “I did not see how badly you cut yourself.”

“Not serious, I assure you, Lady Alea.”  He lifted his hand and grimaced at it.  “Though I won’t be much use with a blade for a few days, until the stitches come out.”

I sighed gustily.  “I suppose then it is my responsibility to protect Lahdel should brigands attack.”

Terran grinned.  “I’m sure you would scare them off much quicker than I could.”

“True.” I scoffed.  “My scowl is infinitely fiercer than yours.  You are too handsome to be frightening.”

“And you’re not?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Which? Frightening or handsome?”

We both looked away at the same moment.  I wonder to this day why Lahdel did not start up and slap one or both of us.  I’d seen the prince’s answer in his eyes, a flash that twisted my heart right around itself.  He thought I was beautiful and it terrified him.

“Lahdel,” he said lightly.  “Shall we leave your frightening cousin to plan for her assault on the northern outlaws?”

“As it pleases your highness,” she said simply.  He drew her to her feet and they walked away, their heads bent together.

We were careful to avoid each other after that.  At least, I knew I deliberately put myself in a group of people whenever we were in the same room.  I only nodded respectfully when we passed in the corridors, not trusting my voice.

He seemed to be doing the same.  He never spoke to me after that morning should he come out in search of Lahdel.  It was too easy, too powerfully alluring.  No one appeared to notice our reserve around each other, how he would turn away his face when he saw me, how he would take Lahdel’s arm, angling his body away from me, doing anything to avoid conversation with me.  We were like two weights on opposite ends of a line, swinging around each other, never meeting, but unable to escape.

The summer wore away, the days shortening slowly, but inexorably.

I grew brown and coarse.  I sat out every day, my face to the sun, drinking it in.  It was the only thing keeping me alive and warm.  The rest of the world still felt cold, detached from me.  It was getting better, but those moments in the garden had left me wounded, slicing through me.  It would take me time to heal.

I didn’t want to heal.

I wanted Terran.

For the harvest celebration, the king held a Grand Ball.  I skipped down the steps, the impossibly light silk of my dress floating around me.  I felt like I was wearing a cloud of vibrant emerald, swirling in every direction.

The ballroom was already noisy, all but the most important guests already arrived and eagerly awaiting the dancing and the feast.  I’d read the harvest reports; a bumper crop, the best in years.

“Alea!” courtiers cried out to me, standing by the raised platform for the musicians at the back of the hall.  “Sing!”

I shook my head.  “It is too early, yet.”

One young man came and took my hand.  “Please, Lady Alea.  Sing something, so we may dance.”

“You can dance well enough without me.” I sniped tartly.

“Please?  It is not the same without you.  You are the best.”

I rolled my eyes.  “Flattery will get you nowhere,” I told him sternly as I climbed the shallow steps.  “I am immune.”

They all laughed.  They made a small square of dancers, clapping and singing along.  Slowly it widened, drawing more and more couples in as their excitement caught on.

The Master Musician tamed the crowd, choosing more stately pieces, slower than the rowdy dances I had sung.  I stepped down, flashing him a smile.  He grinned back, his fingers dancing on his strings.

Lahdel was watching the dancers with bright eyes.

“Come, sit!” she insisted, patting the chair next to her.  I went and accepted a drink from a servant gratefully.  I disappointed Gulin and Henry both, shaking my head at their requests to dance.

“I am sorry,” I said truthfully.  “But I do not feel like dancing.  Dance with Lahdel, since Terran in nowhere to be found.”

His absence was being remarked upon by even the most oblivious courtiers when he strode in the main doors. The dancers parted, letting him pass until he stood before his father and mother.

“Forgive me,” he said.  “I lost track of time in the library.”

Lahdel reached for him eagerly.  I watched the flashing gems in the hair of the women as they twirled.

“Lady Alea.”

“Yes, your highness?”

“I wish you to sing, so I may dance with the princess.”

“Of course, your highness.”  I stood and made to go to the musician’s stage.

“No.” Terran stopped me.  “Sing alone.”

“Alone?” I asked, astonished out of my carefully absent stare.  His eyes were as flat and shuttered as I supposed mine to be.

“The most beautiful song you know.” He said softly.  Lahdel blushed.  So did I.

“I will try to please your highness.”

He nodded and led Lahdel to floor.  The wide space cleared, the courtiers moving back to the walls, hushed.

Terran waited, Lahdel’s hand in his, his eyes on a point above my head.  I tried to think of something, but every song I knew flew out of my head.  Nothing sounded beautiful when he was with her.

I drew in a breath and started singing, anything.

By chance, it was the love aria from the most recent opera I had performed before leaving home.  A slow pavane, lilting and delicate.  I sang without thinking, holding onto my tears, listening as my voice reverberated from the stone walls, more powerful than even my sturdy frame would suggest.  I had once sung in the Grand Theater in Bask, an outdoor space nearly a quarter mile from stage to back tier.  I knew how to fill emptiness with my voice, make it dance around every corner, wrap around each person listening.

I finished, the final note long and vibrating, then dying away.  The room sighed as one.

Terran bowed to me.  “Impossibly beautiful, as always, Lady Alea.”  I curtsied back and sank to my chair.

The queen leaned forward, her hand light on my shoulder.

“Astonishing,” she praised, sounding choked.  “I have heard it many times, but never with such…sorrow!  You made her weep in her happiness.”

I smiled.  “Does not happiness make us weep, at its most extreme?”

Her eyes were sparkling.  “And at its very best.”

The Master Musician rightfully chose a breathless, breakneck dance to follow that, dispelling the mood I had pressed down on the assembly.

I forced my way through the feast after, then more dancing.  If I stood still, I feared I would start weeping myself, all the sorrow I had kept inside me spilling out, released by my thoughtless song.

The sun was lighting in the sky before the ball broke up.  I walked carefully back to my rooms, one hand trailing the wall to keep my balance.

I stopped, staring at the ground.

He came toward me slowly, his steps almost dragging, as if he couldn’t decide if he wanted to ran at me or away.

His hand was warm on my face, lifting it to look up at him.

“You are crying,” he said softly, his fingers wiping the wetness from my cheek.  He pulled me against him, dipping his head the slightest bit.

I was a sun myself, blazing with blinding, golden light.  He gasped, his breath rushing across my lips before he pressed his to mine again.  His grip on me was painful, shocking, glorious after weeks of apathy, of heartache.

In that moment, I felt all the years of love and passion we would never have.  Every touch and caress, every soft smile and glance we would deny ourselves.  I had it all, everything I could ever want from him.

He set me carefully back on my feet, steadying me.  We each stepped back, our hands at our sides.  He stared down at me, in so much pain, I nearly cried out for it.  He turned then and left, his steps uneven, halting.

I went to my room.  Lahdel was still downstairs, so I was safe from her commenting on my tears, the flush in my face.  I stood at my window, looking out over the palace grounds.  The sun was rising, a faint yellow glow to the east.

Terran would never beak his promise.  He would marry Lahdel and be faithful to her.

I did not hate her just then.  I knew.  I knew that every time he touched her, every night he lie with her, every child she bore him, he would be thinking of me.  He would give her his word and his honor.

He had given me his soul.

I've tried my best

So, just about every one in entire world has heard some form of this phrase: There is nothing new under the sun.  There are no new plots.  If I had gone to school for literature, I'm sure I could tell you what these archetypes are.  Maybe I'll look them up later.  But, the point is, it is up to the author to couch these plots in new and exciting ways, some original or interesting. 

But there is one story that I simply think is stupid, no matter how it is told and if I ever take on the challenge of wrestling with it, it will look nothing like the original.

Romeo and Juliet.

Those two make me want to tear my hair out.  And don't tell me how 'romantic' it is.  I think it's dumb.  My argument is begun and concluded in this simple sentence.  If Romeo could sneak in and see Juliet at her balcony, why didn't she just climb down and then run away with him and live happily ever after somewhere?

Why go through all the secret letters and meetings and stuff?  You've already proven capable of sneaking out?  Why take sleeping potion, when you could have just agreed to marry what's-his-face and then run away and sent a letter to Romeo then?  Epic Fail.  Face---->Desk.

And yes, I know the point is to highlight the irony of their situation and the tragedy and other literary things.  I still  makes me grumpy.  If had been a spectator back in the day, I think I might have walked out.

Bah!

E. T.