Doves on Roses
The wind howled furiously, flinging the crinkly leaves onto the cold hard tombstone.
His fingers grazed the white, chilly marble fondly, caressing the gold engraved inscriptions so meticulously carved.
It was a royal grave. It had all the splendor of a royal grave: the white marble tombstone and coffin, the pliant green weeping willows that shed tears with the slightest breeze, and the protective ring of cherry blossom trees and rose bushes all around, providing the quietness needed by the sanctuary.
Despite all its resplendence and extravagance, it still could fill the emptiness of his lonely heart.
His fingertips stroked the inscribed name gently. A faint trace of the smile he used to wear resurfaced on his face. He gave a lonely shake of his head, sighing inaudibly. His heart contracted painfully against his will. Involuntarily, he bit his lips to prevent himself from crying out.
He was the cause of all this. He could have prevented this tragedy; yet, he did not realise the enormity of the entire matter till it was too late.
And now, she was gone.
"You will marry me, won't you?" Hector asked with a twinkle in his eyes. "It's a tremendous honour."
Florina's face was one of shock, disbelief, relief, joy, sorrow, confusion and other profound feelings all rolled into one. "M-m-marry you?" she stuttered with a faint blush on her cheeks.
Hector did not reply. Instead, he broke off a fragrant white rose growing on a nearby briar and set it in her hair. "Yes, say you'll marry me," he said gently, stroking her hair. "The rose makes you look lovely."
"I-I-I don't know," Florina stammered, her face turning even redder.
"Then just say that you'll marry me," he said smoothly. "Say that you'll be mine."
"I-I-o-okay," Florina said hesitantly, fingering the rose in her hair. "I guess…"
The delivery room was a mess. Towels, some of them cleaned while others stained, were thrown everywhere. Basins of bloodied water rested on every tabletop available and the midwives' vials of ointments and creams crammed into every remaining space that was decently clean.
"I can't believe it," Hector boomed joyously. "I am a father!" Sending the chattering midwives out of the room, he took the sleeping baby from Florina's arms and cradled her gently.
Her eyes, which had been closed barely a moment ago, now fluttered open. Instantly, she could tell that she had inherited his fiery blue eyes, radiating with energy and determination. She was almost like a mirror image of him: his nose, his mouth, his forehand, and his hair… The only part of her that resembled her mother was the exquisite smile that rarely relinquished.
"What shall we name her as?" Florina turned on the bed, worn out by the exertion. Her damp lavender curls stuck to her sweat-lined forehead. "She looks almost exactly like you."
"Might as well name her Hectarius," Hector said lamely. "After me."
"If you want," Florina laughed lightly, "Though I think that Lilina will suit her better. She's so fair and delicate, like a little lily."
"Lilina…Hmm…" Hector said, "Good name, but I will make sure that I train her till she is not frail and delicate any longer, but a strong mistress of her keep, one who can hold her place unwaveringly."
Florina laughed. "Sounds like Vaida," she said slyly, knowing how much Hector detested the wyvern lord.
As expected, he launched into a torrent of angry outbursts and hurled abuses at the absent Bern wyvern lord.
Their relationship was still very close during that time.
The untainted rose still bloomed between them, filling the air with its romantic fragrance. The dove, pure and innocent, still nestled between the fragrant white walls of the rose, accompanying the sweet scent with its own song.
Yet, he had taken advantage of all this.
He had taken everything for granted, believing foolishly his own made-up fairytale that they will stay forever; that the rose will never be stained, will never wilt; that the dove will never fly, will never be frightened away.
The wind howled fiercely outside, sending the searing raindrops smashing onto the glass panes. The weather outdoors was icy cold, with its freezing rain and merciless gusts.
Not that the atmosphere within was any better.
"Stop crying," Hector said harshly. "What has happened is the past. Forget about the issue and let everything rest."
"I can't," Florina wept. "I badly wanted another child, a boy, I-I-I-I just can't."
"Seriously, what's the point of sniveling over here then?" Hector growled. "It can't bring the child back to live, can it?"
The words only succeeded in sending a fresh stream of tears down her pale cheeks streaked with the teardrops that had fallen not so long ago.
Hector sighed resignedly and stared out of the window. He just could not comprehend how tears could form part of her life. After all, it was merely a miscarriage, an unfortunate incident of a fall from her pegasus. In addition, it was her who had insisted on the ride.
Glancing back at his wife, who was curled up in the armchair, he felt a sting of guilt and pity. She was really still very much a child who was barely over twenty-one of age. She still needed all the love and care of a child would need. He ought to be comforting her instead of watching her cry passively about the lost child she had been carrying.
If only Uther was there, he would advice him on what to do to resolve this tense situation.
He felt his inner defenses crumble slightly under the internal conflict. He felt like moving over and holding her tightly in his arms, telling her that it was all right and that he would always be there for her. He longed to rest his head lightly on hers, breathing in the sweet fragrance of her hair, a balm for his own sorrow at the loss of the child. He would have loved to have her clutch onto him, crying into his chest like she had done when Ninian had died.
No, he pushed away the affectionate thoughts firmly. He was the marquess of Ostia, the leader of Lycia. He must not weaken to such emotions. They would affect his duties in governing his land. He would lose the respect of his people. This was too little an affair to worry about. He ought to be thinking of the rising powers of Bern and the economical competitiveness of Lycia, especially Ostia, compared to the other nations. There was no time for such trifle sentiments…
"Find me in the royal study when you are done with your laments," he said crisply, slamming the door, "If you wish to."
There and then the door closed, leaving her alone in her grief, just when she needed him the most of all.
That was presumably the first stain on the rose, the first sign of winter that ruffled the dove's feathers in alarm.
Standing before her grave, he regretted his coldness that moment in their bedroom. Perhaps it would not have incurred this chain of events if he had followed his feelings.
The chain of events, as proven, led to plain doom.
"I didn't know that you're going out today?" Florina sat up in bed as Hector wore his official Ostian robes.
"There is a meeting in the Pheraen Castle followed by an official evening dinner today," Hector explained. "Don't expect me for dinner or lunch."
"You will be gone the whole day?" Florina said, dismayed. "But Hector, it's Lilina's birthday today and you promised to spend the day with her!"
"Well, I can't postpone or not attend this, can I?" Hector snapped agitatedly as he threw on his cape and fastened the royal Ostian pin over it. "Birthday or not, I am still the Marquess of Ostia."
"Can you at least come home for dinner and celebrate her birthday with her?" Florina pleaded. "You have been very busy and Lilina really misses you. She has been looking to this day."
"Just help me tell her 'Happy Birthday' and that I love her," Hector said. "I'll bring her back a present from Pherae to placate her."
"But, Hector-" Florina started.
"Enough! I have to go!" Hector bellowed, grabbing his treasured Armads. "This concerns the safety of the entire nation of Lycia!"
The carriage was already ready at the door when he descended the stairs.
"Milord, it is still early," Oswin bowed low. "Would you like to wish your daughter and your lady wife a good day before you leave?"
"It's fine," Hector ordered, stepping into the carriage. "Let's go."
As commanded, Oswin closed the door and stepped back. The carriage lurched and started moving at a steady pace with Kent guiding the horses.
Soon, the Ostian castle disappeared from view.
Looking out of the window at the river of greenery and organised villages, Hector sighed. In his heart of hearts, he wished to be able to spend the day at home with Florina and Lilina; yet, his duty forbids him to do so.
Running a hand through his stiffly gelled hair, he regretted losing his temper at Florina then. He could tell that she was hurt by his furious outbursts, but as the marchioness of Ostia, she should know that his official duties should always be placed before personal matters. Furthermore, the heavy duties and worrying issues and rumours of Bern's growing strength had increased the pressure on him as the ruler.
No, he must not think of these trivial matters. He needed to focus on the official details of today's meeting and devote himself entirely to his work today.
Maybe tomorrow…
Hector smiled bitterly.
By the time he set foot in Ostia again, it was not the next day but countless of days later. The meeting had dragged on, pressed by the immediate action needed to counteract the numerous issues rising all at once.
Lilina had been extremely pleased to see him, greeting him by the stairs and leaping into his arms. She had shrieked in delight to see what he had brought her from Pherae, a pedigree King Charles spaniel puppy of the most delightful shades, so much so that she spent the whole of the day playing with it.
But Florina had been cool and distant, standing far from were he was. She had allowed only an embrace and a brief kiss to pass between the two of them. Evidently, her heart had still not healed from the argument in their bedroom.
She was not even moved by the exquisite ring he had bought her. She had taken one look at it, closed the lid, muttered a word of thanks, and headed back to her study without wearing it.
But that was just a prelude.
"Florina! Are you out of your mind?" Hector flared once Lilina was out of earshot. "To let Lilina ride your pegasus!"
"What's wrong?" she challenged him defiantly.
"She could have fallen from that stupid flapping horse of yours and hurt herself! That's what's wrong!" Hector roared angrily.
"Don't you insult Huey!" Her voice rose higher and higher. "It's just as intelligent as you are!"
"Right! That's why it fell onto me and nearly flattened me in Caelin, right?" Hector sneered. "Because it is so smart that it cannot even dodge an inaccurate ballista arrow fired by an amateur."
"You were the one who chose to stand there," Florina shot back. "Besides, pegasi have a natural weakness when it comes to arrows."
"Whatever! But that does not mean that Lilina can ride it!" Hector said coldly.
"She told me that she wanted to be a pegasus knight, so naturally she should train to be one!" Florina retaliated.
"What?" Hector practically shouted. "No way am I ever going to permit my daughter to grow up into a weakling on the battlefield."
"How can you say that pegasi knights are weaklings!" Florina's lavender eyes flashed icy fury.
"Well, they are!" Hector roared. "One arrow and they end up dead. Half an axe wound and they are defeated. They are practically useless on an actual battle. That's why Ostia never ever bothered much about getting a pegasi knights unit. It is only because of your endless requests that we created one!"
Tears were forming in her eyes, masking their radiance. Slowly, she stepped back, still staring at me. I could read the hurt and disbelief written plainly in her eyes as she retreated.
Turning sharply, she ran out of the stables, her long lavender hair streaming behind her sorrowfully.
Hector breathed deeply.
That was the fatal mark, the fatal stain that finally infected the entire rose, and the fatal snowflake that had ruffled the dove's feathers.
The moment the words came out of his mouth, he had regretted his rashness. The pain on Florina's face lacerated his own heart deeply, leaving searing cuts and bloodied wounds.
But what has been done has been done. The rose has wilted and the bird has flown. No amount of compensation or untimely love and care would bring the rose back into blossom, or the dove back into its nest.
Everything was destined from then on.
He sealed her fate.
He signed her death warrant with his own hand.
She stayed in her room all through the day, locking the door and allowing no one to enter, not even her chambermaids to give send her lunch. Neither did she present herself during tea or dinner.
"Where's mummy?" Lilina had asked repeatedly, staring at the empty chair. "Why isn't she coming?"
"Your mummy is not feeling very well, so she needs a rest," he had lied, slicing his knife through the steak.
The red wine in the glass sparkled like a garnet, its crystal enclosure sparkling with a unique asterism. Downing the fiery liquid in a single swag, he set the empty glass down on the table carelessly.
It was then he heard the door opening behind him. Swiftly, he stood up and turned.
His eyes met hers.
The blazing coldness in her eyes took him by surprise.
"…" She stared unwaveringly at him. Her complexion had always been pale, but now it was close to being pallid.
"Well, so you come out at long last," he said, turning back to his wine bottle. "What would you like? A whisk-"
"Hector." The word sliced through the air like a blade, cutting him off in mid-sentence.
He stopped abruptly.
They stood staring at each other.
It was then he noticed that she had donned a walking dress, the dress she would wear when she used to go riding on her pegasus. In her hand, a silver lance shook slightly, its sharp point glistening in the light.
He blinked.
She made no response.
After what seemed like eternity, she broke the silence. "Before I leave, I wish to ask you this," she said, eyes cast downwards. "Have you…ever…loved me before, Hector?"
The glass was already overflowing, the crimson liquid sliding down the smooth crystal, pooling on the tabletop; yet, he paid it no notice. His mind was breaking down the sentence she had just said.
Love her? Of course he had loved her. He had loved her more than anyone else he had ever loved in his entire live. He had married her completely out of love. You mean… she cannot tell that he loves her?
"You probably love your Armads or Wolf Beil more than you love me, right?" she continued.
He did not even see her walk past him, stride down the dark corridor.
He did not even hear the hollow slam of the heavy door as she left.
The wailing of the wind reminded him of the emptiness he had felt when she left. He recalled the uneasiness he carried in his mind that night, tossing and turning in the royal bed.
The gusts sent a fresh shower of leaves swirling down from the trees, now dyed with the colours of autumn.
Mesmerizing…Tragic…
Hector sat calmly on the leather armchair, sifting through the official documents stacked on his desk.
"Milord, I have followed your instructions and carried out the search for Lady Florina," Oswin bowed.
Hector turned around and raised an eyebrow without speaking.
"I am sorry to inform you this, but…" Oswin swallowed.
Hector's eyebrow rose slightly higher. It was the first time he had ever seen Oswin make an ungentlemanly move. "She wouldn't come back?" he inquired, tracing patterns on the armchair with his finger.
"Not exactly…" Oswin replied. "She cannot…"
"Why?" Hector leant back further in his chair.
"She…she…I am sorry to say this so untimely, but…" Oswin said with a grim face. "Lady Florina has been found dead…"
Hector's expression froze. The blood in his veins screeched to an abrupt halt. His finger paused in mid-air. It seemed as though the atmosphere had been slashed open with a knife.
"Impossible!" He stood up suddenly, sending the armchair tumbling to the floor. "How-"
"Lord Hector! Calm down!" Oswin resumed his stern expression. "She was found by the cavaliers who were part of the search team. They had found her by the bank of the river. There were multiple cuts and deep wounds on her body and the grass nearby were stained with blood. The druids predict that the time of death was around 4 to 5 in the morning. The disappearance of the lance and the weapon marks on her body leads them to infer that the most likely cause of death was a conflict with bandits, most possibly a large gang of them; but till now, we have not yet apprehended anyone. Whoever that killed her were very careful to remove all evidence from the scene…"
He did not hear a word of what Oswin continued to ramble on. All he could think of was the brutal truth before him.
"Bring me to her," Hector said dryly.
'Milord, it is not a good idea since-" Oswin started.
"BRING ME TO HER!" Hector roared, crashing his fist down on the table. "And I mean, NOW!"
He had not expected the scene before him during that time. Never had he ever thought of the possibility that she would die before he did.
The tears were forming, blurring his image of the dancing leaves.
He fell to his knees before her lifeless body.
Even dead, she was still beautiful. Her armour was rent and shattered where it had absorbed the impact of the heavy axes crashing down of its wearer. A long thin cut ran down her ivory cheek to her jaw line, where it intersected with another wider wound. A fatal slit adorned the whiteness of her neck, the blood that oozed from it dying her collar. Crimson blooms stained the purity of the dress, one bigger and brighter than the other. The many weapons going in and out broke her flawless skin and left it bloodied.
The grass for metres around her had been splattered with the roses of her blood. It must have been a lovely sight under the moon; yet now, all that is left is the stench of death.
Cradling her battered body in his arms, he hugged and kissed her.
A soft tear, a cold tear, a tear that should have come years ago, slid down his cheek and fell onto her forehead.
He felt lost.
For the first time in his entire life, he felt lonely.
He felt angry with the bandits.
He felt upset with the twist of live.
He felt like crying.
He felt like a child once again, a child in need of somewhere to turn to and cry.
The tears fell more easily from then on. He cried whenever he visited her grave, whenever, he saw their wedding portrait, whenever he slept alone at night in their royal bed.
She had always been there for him, when he needed the comfort from his worries, sorrows and stress.
Patient and loving, she had never complained once of her own troubles, only sought for him to understand.
Yet, he had never appreciated her, never understood, and never thought about how much he needed her, till she left at long last.
He loved her, just that he never bothered to understand it or uncover it. Only when she had vanished altogether from his life did he unearth the deep feelings he had for her in his heart.
She was gone. With her disappearance, she carried away with her his comfort, his love, his humor, his source of support…everything.
Brushing softly against the white marble, Hector let loose the wild emotions he had kept for so long.
She would understand. She always did. Even if she were trapped in the cold earth for eternity, she would still understand what he was transmitting to her. Love would overcome all obstacles, or so she had once told him laughingly.
The 'I'm sorry' s and 'I love you' s will reach her through the ground, and she would know. Then, she would wait, and he would wait. Together, they would wait patiently for the day when they will be back together in each other's arms, when they would be free to unveil all their emotions for each other.
And when that day comes, he would bring along the white rose and the white dove with him to meet her.