Jane watches as the blood poured from the wound. The blade still embedded in his 's so much blood.
Surely he must be empty soon?
God, let me feel as empty as he is.
She was vaguely aware of Gunther calling her name. Tugging her sleeve and pulling her she slipped from his grip. Her arms slick and slippery from the blood that coated them.
His God.
"Jane please, you had to. He would have killed me now please just come back to the castle." His voice is cracked and raw, strained from terror and tries to speak but the words are tugged from her mouth and ripped away by the wind,
"I killed him."
"Bandits?"
The word falls from my mouth and tumbles into the silence, sitting awkwardly in the cuffs of my long blue pants. Sir Theodore gives me a frustrated glare.
"Yes, Jester. Thats what Gunther has told us. They were both attacked, he was about to be killed when Jane stabbed the bandit." Theodores voice was emotionless and reserved.
"Is she well?"
"What? Yes, she's fine No one got a blade to her."
I want to feel relief but it doesn't come. My stomach knots and turns. I have to see her.
Have to make sure she's ok.
Because I know Jane. I know her.
And she wouldn't be fine after that. Not my Jane.
When I fine her she's sitting in the court yard staring at the broth Pepper has put in front of her. There's something about the way she sits that makes me stop. Makes my heart try to climb out my mouth. My stomach sinks and my eyes are wide and I'm growing, filling, overflowing with emotion. Because when she sits with her face downcast and her long red curls falling gently over her she sits with her porcelain skin basking in the light, littered with scars and she sits with her green eyes, dry, yet drenched in sorrow. When she sits like that, my heart breaks.
"Jane?"
But she doesn't hear me.
"Jane are you alright?"
And she looks up-
"Jane? I have a joke I could tell you. It's a good one I promise."
And her eyes are blank-
"I'm fine, Jester."
Her voice is flat and emotionless.
"Jane, I'm just trying to help. You can't possibly be fine with all of this."
"I don't need your help Jester. I really am fine you stupid bell-boy"
I watch her leave.
Her broth is still warm.
She can feel it boiling up through her chest. It presses up against the walls of her rub cage. Constricts her stomach and throat.
And it hurts.
And she can feel it trying to escape her with every heart beat. Every shuddering intake of can feel it trying to leak from her eyes and run down her cheeks. She can feel it eating away at her. She slams her hands against the cool, brick wall of her her forehead against lets a single tear roll down her then she a single tear is all she'll 'll allow herself,just that moment.
Through wisps of blonde hair I stare at the ledge above the window I'm perched on. It was a tricky climb with the lute on my back but the arch above the window has made a comfortable seat. The brick is cold against the bare skin on my back where my shirt has ridden up. The wind tugs and pulls at my bells, a soft tune ringing out. I fiddle absently with the edge of my lute. I hope she likes it.I hope it makes her happy.
Or angry.
Or anything.
I hope it makes her feel. Even if it's not for me.
I start to play. The cold makes my fingers sluggish and slow and it comes out as a fumbled wreck. My heart throws itself against my ribcage.
Again. And again.
And I start to sing;
"i don't know how i'm s'pose to feelmy body's cold my guts are twisted steel."So underneath the cold blue skyshe puts her hand in mineshe says "life's a game we're meant to stick by me and i will stick by you.
It's clumsy and it's ragged and I'm a little out of breath. But it worked. Because suddenly Jane's yelling at me to get away from her window. That people will start yelling at me and to come inside right this minute. She's yelling in a tone that's got anger and embarrassment dripping through it. But laughter too. And .There's happiness in their too.
"Jane it's been a week. You need to start getting back into the routine of things."
"I know... I just... Sir Theodore said the first time would be the hardest. He said it gets easier. He promised."
She's sitting at the edge of her bed and I'm starting to realise how inappropriate it is for me to be anywhere near her chambers. If someone walks in both of our reputations will be ruined. I open my mouth to say something, and look at her.
And I close my mouth.
Because its written all over her.
That she needs me. Just this once. And that's good enough for me.
"Jane, it will get easier. You'll learn to forget. I promise."
I'm over aware of my body. There's an awkward amount of distance between us and I'm not sure whether I should move closer of further away.
When starts to cry I know I have to go to her. I know I have to comfort her.
Should I hold her?
Jane doesn't like a lot of contact.
But she's crying.
And aren't you supposed to put your arm around someone when they cry?
Yes.
I'll put my arm around her.
But what if I'm sweaty and smell bad?
No. I shouldn't.
She wouldn't like that.
"Jane, I know it's hard but it will get easier. It will. I know it will," then I take her in my arms and she's soft and warm and fits just right. And I can smell her.
Lilacs.
She looks up at me, my reflection embedded in green, "You don't know what it's like."
"Then tell me, my lady."
So she does.
And she cries.
The wall gets dented with hurt and frustration.
She tells me about watching his eyes glass over. About feeling her blade slide through tells me about the way she watched him die. And mostly she tells me about the blood. And how it spilt and trickled over his hand.
Over his wedding band.
"I just feel so lost, Jester. I don't feel like I belong anywhere."
"That's ridiculous, Jane. You belong here..." I'm leaning in towards her, our faces are almost touching. My lips brush against hers as I whisper,"You belong... with me."
Her lips are soft and warm under mine. She tastes of honey and roses and the salt from her tears. I reach up with my hand and tangle my hand through her thick, red hair and suddenly we're kissing frantically. She's moving her hands across my body, making me moan quietly into her mouth as she deepens the kiss. I move my hands down her back and hold her at the hips. She's fumbling with the buttons of my jacket and suddenly my shirts fallen to the floor. Her hands trace the indents and definition years of acrobatics sculpted into my body.
I shudder.
Kiss her on the cheek.
"Jane," I whisper, "I love you."
"Please, don't leave."
I remove my shoes and sit on the bed, bringing Jane to sit in my lap.
She throws off my hat and rumples my hair.
"Go to sleep," I smile. She nods and closes her eyes.
I know she doesn't love me.
Not yet.
Not now when she's struggling to feel anything.
But she needs me.
And for now,that's good enough.