Will Our Love Run Dry? - 1. Will Our Love Run Dry?

Today was the day.

I was to be wed to his royal highness, Prince Alexander of Zion. I was to be crowned Royal Consort to the Prince. I was to gain a family: a father, a mother, and a husband. But today was the day that I would forever remember as the beginning of the rest of my life with the man who changed it forever, Alex.

The day was beautiful. Sunlight illuminated the kingdom, glistening off the ivory towers of the castle. A gentle breeze swept through the kingdom, carrying a faint hint of lavender. I stood at the door of my tiny cottage and looked down the dirt road at the royal castle in the distance, its gleaming white walls, a promise of a future. A pair of children chased each other down the street, unadulterated joy gurgling in their throats, spilling over in bursts of laughter. A smile spread across my face as I remembered the first time I met the royal child.

Mother had just given me a silver piece to fetch a pound of meat from the market. As a child, I had never been particularly sharp. The silver slipped from my pudgy little fingers as I tried to make my way through the crowds that lined the street. They had gathered to observe some commotion that was making its way through the lower town. The silver rolled through the crowds; between the legs of overweight ladies bustling each other to get a better view, pass the feet of sturdy men with their children hoisted on their shoulders, narrowly avoiding a group of beggars eyeing the crowd with suspicion, tumbling forward into the open space. I squeezed through the sweaty bodies and was shoved into the open lane. The silver piece lay at my feet. I bent over to pick it up when a monstrous shadow cast itself over my petite frame, a shrill neighing sending me tumbling backwards.

Fear bound my body as hooves narrowly avoided crushing my legs and pounded imprints into the ground. A stern man dismounted from the carriage and eyed me with suspicion, his fingers menacingly toying with the horsewhip.

“It’s alright,” an angelic voice sung from behind the shadow.

Small feet shuffled pass the horseman and stopped right in front of me. A small hand extended itself and as I looked up, beautiful blue eyes set in a round face was roving up and down my body. His hair seemed to frame his face with a gentle glow in the reflection of the sun. The golden strands curled slightly as they brushed against his forehead.

A field of wheat in harvest, I thought it reminded me of.

“You alright?” he asked.

I nodded, dumbstruck.

“Need some help?” he asked once more, his lips curling in amusement.

I looked at his outstretched hand and heat rushed to my cheeks. My limbs abided by my will as I shakily stood on my feet. As I brushed my dirty hands against my pants, I kept my gaze fixated on the ground.

“I… I apol…pol… ogise…, y… your… high…highness,” I stuttered, ashamed.

He bent down at my feet. I gasped, horrified.

“Here,” he said as he straightened himself and held out his hand, a piece of silver sitting in the palm.

“Oh… thanks… thank you… your highness,” I managed as I picked the dirty silver from his hand, my callous dirty fingers brushing against his soft clean palm. I bowed a stiff awkward bow as I waited for him to mount the carriage once more.

“It’s Alex,” he added throwing a glance back at me, punctuating his sentence with a wink.

I blushed furiously as I stepped away from the open path and joined the sidelines. The horses neighed, lifting their hooves, as the horseman’s whip cracked against their hide.

The same sound echoed through the night as I returned home, silver piece in hand, the meat all but forgotten. But the next day, a letter arrived, the royal seal prominently displayed on the back.

As I passed the streets, the men and women of the town stopped me to offer their congratulations: a shaken hand, a half-hug, claps on the back. I smiled and thanked them. I was surprised to discover that I was not bitter, as I left the town behind.

The castle walls stood before me in all their glory, a wall of stone on stone paved in blood and built on the corpses of slaves that lived hundreds of years before me. Miles of greenery stretched on the either side of the gate. I touched the weathered stone and remembered the day I turned fifteen.

I had just finished gathering the herbs I needed to bring back to the local physician. I sat my basket down against the walls of the castle and waited. I had two hours before I was due to return. The sound of hooves pounding against the ground announced his arrival. Still dressed in his armour, he dismounted the beautiful white stallion. Unclasping his helmet and lifting it off his head, he shook out his golden mane, damp from sweat and sticking to his face in clumps. His face had become more angled over the years; prominent cheekbones cut across the side of his face. But his eyes remained the same beautiful blue, cerulean, like a lake in summer. He was beautiful.

“My knight in shining armour,” I teased.

“Shut up!” he retorted, annoyed.

I had gradually stopped using formal titles in private with Alex, as we grew closer. He had become my best friend, my only friend. We talked as we hid from the intense midday sun under the shade of a lonesome oak tree, erect in a field of grass. We laughed and joked and poked fun at the ridiculous characters we had to deal with on a daily basis. As a physician’s assistant, I could assure you that there were many.

Following a horrible impersonation of one of my previous customers, Alex guffawed with laughter and clapped me on the back. I winced, noticeably. I rearranged my features quickly, steeling myself, but it was too late. Alex had seen it. His face hardened, the crinkle in the corner of his eyes as he smiled flattened out and his full lips pressed into a hard line.

“Show me,” he demanded, his voice low and steady.

“Alex…,” I pleaded softly.

He yanked the hem of my tunic upward, revealing blotches of purple against a canvas of ivory. He brushed his fingers against the ugly patches, his warm hands sending currents of electricity buzzing underneath my skin. I gently tugged the fabric back down over the bruises. I looked at Alex from underneath my eyelashes, ashamed. His eyes darkened, a storm brewing inside them. His jaw tensed.

“How could they?” his voice cracking, “How could you let them?”

“You should leave,” he stated sternly, “Get away from those monsters.”

“I can’t,” I said, my voice quiet, “They’re family.”

“They’re not!” his voice boomed like thunder.

My eyes widened in shock. He leaned closer and lowered his voice, quivering under the strain of controlling his temper, “They’re not.”

I looked away; my eyes focused past the expanse of green before me, at the forest in the distance, a sliver of happiness worming its way into my heart as I pondered the implicit meaning of his words.

I strode through the wrought iron gates, trees lining the side of the path, the flowers of spring giving way to the fruit of summer. The courtyard lay before me in all its glory. The water in the fountain danced in the sunlight, throwing colours on the walls of the castle, an acting prism. I spotted a single rose blooming. I bent down, inhaling the fragrance of a beginning. It would be the first of its brethren. The walls of this courtyard had seen a first of mine as well.

I had been dismissed from my apprenticeship with the local physician. I begged for his mercy. I had nowhere else to go. I had no money. Mother had passed on years before. There was no one left. He snarled.

“Don’t bother,” he spat, “Besides, his royal highness spotted you skiving off from your duties. He thought I might as well get my money’s worth instead of paying your lazy ass.”

The door slammed in my face.

Alex, I seethed.

I marched out of the town where I had met him, across the fields where I had grown to know him and into the courtyard of the castle. He sat on the ledge of fountain, the sun illuminating his bronze skin, his chiseled face and those blue eyes that were staring into the distance.

“How could you?” my voice quaked, the anger that had been building up inside me melting into a puddle of hurt.

“Gabriel?” he questioned, surprised.

“I have nothing left,” I said quietly.

A silent moment passed between us before understanding spread across his face.

“I was trying to help… You needed to leave…,” he replied, uncertainty showing under his cool confidence.

“I’m not your charity case. You don’t get to meddle in my affairs even if you are the fucking prince, your royal highness,” I retorted, enunciating the last words slowly and clearly, knowing each syllable would drive deeper and deeper into his frail insecurities.

His demeanor changed in an instant, the air seemed to have been knocked out him. My chest clenched at the pain evident in his eyes. I had to clench my fists to resist pulling him into a hug. I wanted to and I hated that I did.

Another moment of cold tension passed between us.

I turned to leave when his hand shot out and grabbed me by the wrist.

“Don’t go,” he pleaded in a small voice.

“I have nowhere to go,” I replied in a low voice, feeling exhausted.

Hot tears threatened to spill over as I realised the gravity of the situation for the first time.

“I have nowhere to go,” I repeated, “I have nothing left.”

“I have nothing left,” I repeated, “There is no one left.”

I repeated the words under my breath, rolling them over my tongue again and again.

It’s starting to rain, I thought, as droplets streaked down my face, my vision blurred.

Fingers tilted my chin up, I remembered seeing gentle blue eyes, blue as a clear sky. I remembered Alex’s eyes. Lips pressed against my own, a gentle urging. A tongue licked against my upper lip as it pressed forward, touching my teeth. Hands held my waist steadily, a steady pressure against my skin. I slipped my arms around the body in front of me and stepped forward. I pressed my chest against his chest and basked in the warmth. I opened my mouth and let him in.

The clock struck twelve as I walked through the chapel doors. They all turned. Alex stood beside the throne in his ceremonial tunic, his sword strapped to his side in its sheath. The light lending colour from the stained glass windows of the chapel cast an ethereal glow around him.

I walked down the aisle, remembering the struggles that had led up to this point: his parents’ disappointment and their eventual approval, the cancellation of his arranged marriage with Princess Sofia, my apprenticeship with the court physician, the virulent gossip in the kingdom. But as with all the trials and tribulations, I focused on Alex and let them fade away.

“… And should there be anyone who opposes the coronation of Gabriel Baignard, Royal Consort to Prince Alexander, speak now or forever hold your piece.”

The chapel doors threw open to reveal a breathtakingly beautiful lady dressed in a robe of silk, the colour of twilight. Her alabaster skin contrasted the black hair that cascaded down her back. Green eyes pointedly forward, Princess Sofia stalked through the silent hall, her hands holding up a snow-deer, widely thought to be a symbol of the supernatural. The creature whined pitifully as its eyes looked into mine. A shiver ran down my spine as I watched the animal lay in her pale hands. It seemed resigned, as if it knew what was about to transpire.

“A gift,” she sang, “for the newlyweds.”

She glided along the aisle silently as dark clouds advanced in the sky, mounting an ambush on the sun. Rain pelted against the roof of the chapel as droplets streaked against the faces of the figures in the stained-glass murals. A storm had descended upon us.

As she neared the throne, a flash of silver opened a sea of red. The blood of the creature spurted out onto the ground, emptying in a pool around us.

Sofia’s face morphed into something wicked as her voice rumbled across the hall. “I curse you as you stand. As the last drop of wine of this banquet runs dry like the blood of this sacred creature, your love will dissipate and turn to everlasting bitterness. You will rue the day you chose to live a life of sin, abominations!” she cackled as her green eyes gleamed with maliciousness.

The pool of blood advanced, travelling along the cracks in the stone floor, pooling around our feet. It soaked through my cowhide boots and stained them a gruesome red.

“Guards! Seize her!” commanded the King. But in the place where she stood, only lay the pitiful creature, its heart pumping the last of its life force out of its own body. She had left, gliding down the chapel aisle and dissolving into the curtain of rain.

The darkness receded and the sun illuminated the room once more to reveal the wilted roses lining the chapel and the pristine tiered cake that had rotten into a mound of mould, festering with maggots.

The tension in the hall burst into a buzzing of hushed and scattered voices.

I looked to my prince.

“I can’t hate you,” I teased, my shaking voice betraying my fear.

“It’ll be alright,” he assured me in his words, but his eyes mimicked my fear.

“I can’t have no one again,” I whispered.

“You have me,” he assured me,

“You have me.”

I pressed my lips against his and then, I believed.