elincia: (nagano)
Nessa ([personal profile] elincia) wrote on December 5th, 2009 at 11:39 pm
will i be forgiven?
So I wrote this in record time for a friend's birthday. It's kind of bad because I didn't have time to look it over, so I'll probably edit it and send it to her again XD But I might as well put it in here first.

Shamelessly influenced by GUILTY. You'll see XD

The moonlight casts a bittersweet glow on the fountain tonight.

I sit and wait, watching painfully as the water whispers, flowing from the fountainhead into the pool beneath it, cascading gently down the pillars and plateaus. I hear the quiet rustle of the wind breathing past the leaves on the small trees, hear the faint music playing from the open door behind me, hear the sound of shoes walking on the patterns of paved stone in the courtyard. The couple stopping by the fountain to admire its beauty, unaware of my presence, slowly clasp hands and intertwine their fingers together.

And it is times like these that I can see you and I in their place.

It tears my heart, it is so painful, to think of you. And yet I constantly think of you, and I tear my heart.


We knew it was a mistake the moment we met. I also knew, at that moment, that you completed me.

I was lonely. I was not lonely because I had no friends; on the other hand, I was quite the social butterfly. I got along well with the other court children and was in good standing with my parents’ liege. Our family was rather well-off in the court and we were always in the king’s favour. But I was lonely.

I remember the day you walked into court, behind your parents, bowing down to the king and having your parents present you to him and his son. You nodded shyly, a little unsure of whether what you were doing was the right thing. Looking around, you caught my eye. I smiled, and I saw you smile back, reassured of someone kind in her presence.

I smiled, because I knew exactly what you went through. I knew what it was like to know no one – I had also been new to court once – but I knew no one else like me. Everyone else had the fortune to be born in court, to know the ropes, to understand how everything fell into place, but I went through trial and error, suffering the wrath of more than one unhappy aristocrat. I had worked hard to become the social person I was, yet no one knew how painful it had been, how many days I went through alone and afraid.

But since that day, I wouldn’t be alone. I told myself this, even though I knew your reason for coming, even though I knew that this chase was pointless, that I would only end up in ruins.

That afternoon, you were sitting alone in the courtyard, gazing up at the fountain. I caught sight of you and walked over, wanting to make sure you were all right, to see whether there was anything I could do for you. From there, the conversation lost all sense of time, as I drowned in your presence. We connected in a way that I had never with anyone else before, I sensed it, and I knew that you sensed it too.

We continued like this in a temporal halt until the sun began to cast its last rays on us. I cannot even remember what we spoke of, just that I was with you, because it was not important. No other conversation I ever had flowed so naturally, felt so genuine, felt so real.

I still do not know what makes you the way you are, what exactly it was that I saw in you that day, but it was different. It was special. I do know that what it was you had, you still have. You still draw me to you, in spite of it all.


A few nights later, in honour of your family’s arrival, the court held a huge ball in the grand ballroom. You walked in, with the way you held that silver dress, the way your hair fell around your face, the way your smile pierced my heart. At that moment, that shock was not pain, it was ecstasy – I did not know if this was what love was, only that it was you, you who filled that empty gap in my heart. And yet there was something about this encounter that left a bad taste in my mouth, the slightest trace of an uncertainty that hung in the air that I breathed.

I walked over and extended my hand to take yours. You said my name – oh, the dulcet tones of your voice shaping the syllables! – gently slipped your gloved hand into mine, and we waltzed away, happy, oh so happy, both with someone barely known to them. In all my years of court something like that had never happened to me; my dance partners had always been vapid women, interested in nothing but my court standing and my money, and more often than not testing my resistance to their wily charms.

As one song ended and we broke away reluctantly, a figure came up to us. It was none other than the crown prince.

“Might I have this dance with my future bride?” he asked, all of a sudden. You could not refuse, and so your gloved hand went from my grasp to his, leaving me with nothing but a sense of loss.

But of course, this was meant to be. I knew that this would happen the moment I saw you, the moment I first heard your name in the hall. I knew this was your destiny at this court, and yet I chased you regardless. The pierce of your smile, still lodged in my heart, began to fester.

I stepped out of the ballroom into the courtyard, thinking that perhaps being out of your presence would ease the pain, that perhaps not watching you dance away with your eventual husband would snap me back into reality and see that the chase was futile. It had the opposite effect; I kept on thinking of you, in some unhealthy obsession that gripped my mind.

As the song changed again, the gentle sounds of the strings reaching my ears, I heard footsteps from behind me along the paved stone, followed by a hand on my shoulder.

“Are you alright, sir?”

By the way my pain was suddenly alleviated and the sudden awareness of every finger that rested on me, I knew it was you. Immediately I turned and reassured you that I was perfectly fine. As if you doubted me, you gave me a suspicious look, but quickly smiled and laughed at my reaction. You then turned to look up at the moon, which hung, full, in the sky.

“The moon is beautiful tonight,” you murmured. I only agreed quietly.

We spent a while looking up at the moon, looking around at the courtyard now illuminated by its pale light. There were other couples walking around, some admiring the scenery, some admiring each other, some unable to continue the restraint that the court demanded of them. And yet, it was just you and I – the feeling that we were alone in the courtyard, as each couple immersed itself into its own world.

Then the sound of footsteps came again, and I knew you had to leave, back to the world from which we came, the world of obligations and realities and everything against us. But before you left, you whispered to me, “Shall we meet again tomorrow?”

And then you left, and I was left alone, again, left with the growing pain in my heart.


The meetings became our secret.

I looked to that moment every day of my life, felt the tension in my body, the anxiety of waiting. The only time that the pain would stop was when you were near me.

It was you and I and the courtyard, the only witness to our clandestine ventures. We only ever talked, though we sensed the barrier that stood between us, the obligations you and I had to uphold, and we knew that the other had the urge to crack that barrier. And yet we knew that if we should crush that wall, the castle would come crumbling around us.

A while after we started our meetings, we were staring up at the fountain again one day, watching the water gently fall down, when you sneezed and lost your balance. You were about to fall into the pool, but I grabbed your hand to stop your fall. It was just a touch of your hand, but I felt awakened, so aware of the fact that it was your hand. Yet slowly, I intertwined my fingers with yours, gently nudging your slender fingers apart and nestling them within my grip. If you were surprised, you did not show it, nor did you object.

I knew, at that moment, that this was love; this pain of separation and waiting, this torment of waiting for each time we would meet, this euphoria every time we did meet again.

Whenever I cried, it was in your embrace; whenever I laughed, you laughed with me. I found myself becoming moody, withdrawn, without you by my side. It began to unsettle those around me, but I could not let them find out about whatever it was between us, so I masked my anguish with a smile, waiting for you to relieve me with your magic.

Waiting for you to save me.

And yet as the day of your destiny began to approach, our meetings grew shorter and fewer, and my reprieve grew more and more temporary. But I got used to this rule we played by, this waiting game.


The fountain is weeping without you tonight.

From the ballroom, I can hear the music of dance, and I imagine you with him, without me. I know this is true. But the truth is a painful thing. The truth that all this time you spent with me will not culminate in anything tangible between us is a thought that still haunts my mind, threatening to leave me wondering whether all of this is a bad dream.

Still, I know it is real. I know this pain in my heart is real. It grows by day, it gnaws at me, unrestrained by your presence. I can feel the tension in my body, feel the need for you.

Ever since these chaotic gears inside me have been set into motion, I have not been able to rest without seeing you. I need you to hold me, now. I cannot wait until the next time we meet. To play by these rules all this time, my pain has grown unbearable.

I love you. I know this is true.

Is it a crime to love you? Is this pain the punishment for my crime?

For if this is a crime, I will bear all the pain, all the contempt, all the transgressions I will cause by being with you. I care not about my obligations or your obligations. I care about you and only you, and I know that the guilt of my actions will be eased with you by my side. I tear my heart with my thoughts, but I tear it knowing that you will heal me with your presence, with your voice, with your being.

The harp plays softly behind me, and I hear footsteps approaching on the paved stone. With a hand around me and another tracing itself down my arm, I can only feel the guilt of this affair, this game of ours. The moon casts its pale light, the wind whispers and the water murmurs; it matters not. I know I no longer care if our actions should be spotlighted for the world.

Because in your embrace I am free.

Cheese and cliché galore! Man, I miss doing this. Almost.
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