Of Loss and Love: chapter nine
Love is a friend, a fire, a heaven, a hell, where pleasure, pain, and sad repentance dwell
[Richard Barnfield]
I left the banquet early that night, unable to stomach what was going on around me. Upon entering my chambers I sat on the edge of my bed taking in deep breaths as I pondered over what had just happened. I did not know what I was feeling more, anger towards Frederick’s sudden declaration of love for me after months of isolation and oppression, or fear over his sudden change in behaviour towards Tristan and what may have caused it.
On an impulse I remembered the kiss Tristan and I had shared not long ago in this very chamber, and fought the urge to kick myself for my stupidity.
What had I let happen?
Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted by a quiet knock on my chamber door. I looked up towards the direction and sighed. Perhaps it was Lady Millicent coming to check up on me. “Come in,” I said.
The door slowly swung open and in walked Tristan still dressed in his court attire. I stood up from my bed and looked at him with utter disbelief.
“What...what on earth are you doing here?” I whispered, half-panicking as he closed the doors behind him. “You know we shouldn’t be meeting like this, especially after what happened!”
“You mean the kiss.”
“It was not a kiss!” I said, firmly, “It was a mistake, one that I should have never let happen!”
“You don't mean that. You and I both know that whatever it was, it happened for a reason.”
“And what reason is that?”
Tristan stared at me for several few seconds. I lowered my head, uncomfortable in his gaze.
“We are in love.”
I felt the hairs on my arm stand at his words. The panic and fear that had consumed my body now replaced itself with defensive rage.
“Remember who you are talking to, Tristan, I am the wife of your sovereign!”
“You call what you are a wife?” he asked, his forehead creasing in anger. “You think that the purpose of a wife is to be nothing more than her husband’s plaything, something that can be used when necessary and then put aside when it’s not?”
“Stop it...” I said, my voice barely a whisper as thick tears began to swell inside my eyes. He was right and I knew it, but it hurt so much more hearing the truth coming from his lips.
Tristan continued to press his point. “This isn’t called being a wife, Rose; it’s called being a prisoner!”
“Stop it!” I yelled. “Stop it!” Hot and thick tears began to trickle down my cheeks.
Tristan looked down at his feet, angry that he had lost his temper with me. Several seconds of silence passed between us before he approached closer towards me. “I’m sorry, Rose,” he continued, this time more softly. “It’s just that seeing you like this, I can’t help myself. I mean...I’ve loved you from the moment I first laid eyes on you all those years ago when we were young, and I’ve regretted the fact that I didn’t tell you ever since...I’d hoped that in the coming years I’d perhaps get to see you again and be able to rectify that mistake, but by then it was too late. Frederick had already decided you’d be his next wife and like a coward I stood by and let it happen.”
I quickly wiped the tears from my eyes and tried to compose myself. “Tristan, please...the king will have your head if he heard you...”
Tristan ignored me, gently stroking my cheek with his thumb. His touch felt like a wonderful kind of sensation taking over every part of me, making my heart race.
“Tell me...” he whispered, his face only inches away from mine. “Tell me you feel the same way for me as I do for you and I promise I will find a way for us to be together.”
It was as though his words suddenly brought me back into reality. I looked up at him in complete disbelief, immediately removing his hands from my face in outrage. “Are you out of your mind, Tristan? Listen to yourself! You are asking me to commit an act of treason that is punishable by death, to shame my father’s honour, to disobey my uncle -”
“Your uncle?” Tristan repeated fiercely.
“Yes, my uncle!”
“How can you still care for that man's opinion after everything that he’s put you through?” he shouted.
“Regardless!” I shouted back. “He is still my family, the only family that I have left! I would never disobey him for the love of a man!”
Several seconds of silence passed between us.
“So you do love me?” asked Tristan.
My heart now felt as though it would jump out of my throat. “No...I don’t...” I said quickly to my defence.
Silence fell inside the chamber, this time, for longer than a few seconds. Tristan looked at me in shock, as though he could not believe what he had just heard. I eyed him nervously, my heart racing inside me.
“Look me in the eye and tell me that,” he said, his eyes desperately searching me for any sign that I may be lying to him. "Tell me you don’t love me as I love you and I will leave you forever..."
Images of his decapitated body dumped in the palace square shot through my mind like a bolt of lightning. If I were selfish I would have embraced Tristan then and there and told him the truth; that, although I had never confessed it before, I too had always loved him deep down inside. I would have told him that all those years that passed between us, had been the most emptiest without his presence. I would have confessed that the kiss we had shared all those nights ago had been the most wonderful and most blissful moment in my life, and that his departure from the palace would rob me of my sole comfort in my marriage. But I couldn’t bring myself to confess. We both had far too much to lose.
I gathered all the strength and courage that remained inside me. “I do not love you,” I repeated, this time more firmly, making sure to look him directly in the eye although each word that had escaped my lips felt like an individual dagger to my heart.
Again, silence fell inside the chamber. With a heavy heart I watched Tristan’s facial expressions turn from shock into utter disbelief. I had hurt him deeply, I could read it in his eyes yet I still remained calm, my expression unwavering. Then, after what felt like a lifetime later, Tristan finally stormed out of my chamber without another word or another glance.
***
Weeks had passed since the night of the banquet and in that time the child now growing inside me had managed to rob me of many nights of sleep. Thoughts of Tristan accompanied me during these restless hours. Doubts of whether my decision to let him go was the right one and whether I should have been so harsh constantly occupied my thoughts. But I knew that however difficult it had seemed back then, it was the only way to truly convince him that I was telling the truth. Tristan was reckless and had proved so when he had come to my chambers that night. What if someone had seen him, what if someone had walked in on us, or worse, overheard the conversation from outside the corridor?
As I would toss and turn in bed I’d often attempt to try and console myself by remembering the terrible consequences that would have followed had I told Tristan that I did indeed love him. He may not realise at this moment in time, but it was precisely because I loved him that I had to make such a sacrifice. It was the only way I could protect him, not only from Frederick, but from himself. Yet, despite these constant reminders, my thoughts would always bring me back to Tristan, back to our last conversation, and how wonderful things could have been had I been able to tell him the truth.
***
“HIS GRACE, THE DUKE OF UNIS.”
I felt a leap of pleasure sweep through me as I watched Tristan enter the Great Hall again after four long months of absence. For a moment I could barely recognise him. His youthful brown curls were now cut short and he had slight stubble on his face. As he approached Frederick, I noticed that his eyes no longer had the boyish and playful twinkle about them; instead they now looked cold and empty, almost lifeless.
“Ah, Tristan..." boomed Frederick with joy, standing from his throne and holding his arms wide open. “Welcome home, my friend!”
“Majesty...”
Frederick wrapped him in a hug. After releasing him, Tristan lowered his head slightly towards me and mumbled, “My Lady.”
“You’re Grace,” I replied, trying not to feel even remotely disheartened by the coldness in his voice as he spoke to me.
“The palace hasn’t been the same without you, my friend,” smiled Frederick, heartily clapping Tristan on the back. “Tell me, how was your break? Were your parents happy to see you?”
“Yes, sire.”
“Excellent! Now, look here, I have a gift for you to celebrate your return.” He pointed the bronze cane in his hand towards the corner of the hall before continuing, “Do you see that brown-haired girl over there, standing next to the princess Gabriela?”
Tristan glanced over to the direction before nodding.
“Pretty little thing, isn’t she?” smiled Frederick.
Tristan cleared his throat uncomfortably before quietly saying, “Yes, sire.”
“That is the Lady Bruni, a distant relation of the Earl of Chaimer. Rumour has it that the poor girl is currently betrothed to some nameless sixty year-old Duke from the Kingdom of Eldonia, however, I have managed to persuade her - with great difficulty, I might add - to come to court..."
Tristan turned to face Frederick in confusion. "Why?"
"Why?” repeated Frederick, laughing. The other advisors standing around him chuckled. “For your pleasure of course!” he boomed, taking a large swig of wine from his goblet and winking. "You can thank me later..."
I felt my heart sink, but I did not let it show in my face.
Tristan looked slightly taken aback by the offer. Before he could speak, he was interrupted by the sudden speedy entrance of Lord Wotton and Sir Gray.
“MAKE WAY FOR THE KING'S COMISSIONERS!”
Both men charged through the Great Hall and approached the High Table with great haste.
“Your Majesty...” breathed Sir Gray, gasping for breath. “We have just received word from our Ambassador that small parts of the South of Asinya have arisen in sudden rebellion against King Maurice.”
I stood up in absolute horror. “What?” I breathed.
Frederick looked back at me before asking Sir Gray, “What are you talking about?”
“It is true, My Lord,” said Lord Wotton, his face incredibly disturbed. “Rebels consisting of ordinary peasants and commoners have come together from parts of the South with the sole aim of killing King Maurice.”
“But why?” I asked, utterly perplexed.
Sir Gray cautiously turned his head towards Lord Wotton, whose expression seemed to be growing more fearful by the minute.
“OUT WITH IT, GRAY!” roared Frederick.
Sir Gray gulped nervously. “The rebels say that they have reason to believe that the late King Théodore did not die naturally as his court-physicians had declared him to, but rather, he had been murdered by his brother, King Maurice.”
.................
links to other chapters
http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/topic53716.html (chapter 1)
http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/topic53746.html (chapter 2)
http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/topic53800.html (chapter 3)
http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/topic53888.html (chapter 4)
http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/topic54024.html (chapter 5)
http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/topic54589.html (chapter 6)
http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/topic55095.html (chapter 7)
http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/post644335.html (chapter 8
http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/post667222.html (chapter 10
well done!
Okay?
I reall loved this one though! Grr I so want her and Tristin to be together (sighs). I loved the part where he says, "Look me in the eyes and tell me that." I also liked the whole paragraph after that. Just awesome. Cannot wait for the next chapter! Keep me posted! 
