Love Blossoms - Chapter Four

I got a little carried away with thoughts in this chapter. But hopefully you will enjoy it nonetheless.

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Aswe progress through inconsequential lives, we encounter hurdles and obstacles. Some of these are construed as 'necessary evils', and are only questioned by the cynical and depressive. As such, when we encounter these things, we brush them aside, not realizing how truly obstructive they are, and how much they can influentially meander our path. And when it is too late, when facile minds triumph and subterfuge prevails, then we see the world in its true colors, and forever lose the naivety and ignorance we clung to so fervently.

The same can be said for our perception of people. We only see what they wish us to, only brush upon the surface of inestimable waters. We test the water, dipping a tentative toe through the clear surface. If it is too cold we recede, and go no further for fear of frostbite - if it is warm, we wade in the shallow end, afraid to venture further for fear of drowning. The few who are courageous enough to brave the turbulent seas reach heights of unimaginable bliss, and subsequently live lives of endless discovery. And as for the timid majority, we cling to logic and reason, and openly ridicule the adventurous whilst inwardly chastising our own cowardice.

-;-'-

I lay silently between the soft mauve, velour sheets, absently scrutinizing the voluptuous woman who lay sleeping beside me. She lacked the innocence gained in sleep, her features just as chiseled and mocking as when conscious. Her strawberry hair flowed like a torrent river, knotted and desiccated, and in no way inviting to the touch or alluring to the senses. Her sickly sallow skin held no beauty. It was yellow and rough, coarse to touch and lacked any discernable smoothness. Her stocky curves seemed unnatural, despite her petite appearance, and her hands remained leathery and inexplicably cold - forever cold.

She stirred slightly, gently nuzzling my side. I wretched inwardly, and cursed the inauspicious situation. I was expected to love her deeply, to devote myself to her every whim and fancy. That was nonsense, pure mendacity. I despised her derision, and devious inclinations. She appeared to abhor everyone as if they bore the bubonic plague, regardless of breeding or upbringing. Her discrimination was universal and portrayed her lack of faith in humanity.

Despite this, I often wondered if these characteristics were a mask, like the one I rendered publicly. I wondered if behind her malicious exterior lay a tender heart and compassionate soul. But incidents like her arrival proved every one of my conjectures erroneous, and only then did I accept how truly callus she was.

Although I had hoped I was wrong, I generally disliked judging others in such a way.

So why, prey tell, did I suffer her, you ask? Why punish myself unnecessarily? For what could betraying the marriage do to my reputation?

The answer to these questions could be summarized with one word. Pride! I held it like a newborn clings to its mother for survival. Like a dying man conforms to a belated sense of renewed faith, I conformed to society, so utterly that I sacrificed my own happiness to be seen as worthy in irrelevant eyes.

She stirred again, opening one stormy hazel eye disdainfully, as if I were infinitely impure. "Darien…What time would it be?"

"I do not know," I said calmly, readjusting myself under the supple covers. "Still quite early, I believe. The sun has yet to rise fully."

She purred languidly, covetously spreading out over the silky fabrics. I dared to steal a glance, only to catch the lascivious glint in her grimy depths. I winced slightly and reached for my book on the nightstand, trying desperately to avoid her suggestions.

But my aloofness from her was not caused by her lack of beauty - far from it. She was in fact quite a vision of slightly tanned skin and delicate features, and I did admire her good looks. Not long ago I had taken her for her appearance, as something gentle and demure. I judged the book by its cover as I tend to do. I paid the price for it, though, as when our engagement was announced she began to reveal her true colors. Her persona began to unfold like the petals of a dead flower - perfectly formed on the outside, yet decayed and demented on the inside. And slowly, her beatific looks were soiled for me by her atrocious tendencies, and my misconceptions were obliterated along with my fondness for her.

My book was snapped away by impetuous fingers, forcing my eyes to meet those of menacing olive. I raised an eyebrow, masking my fury behind sarcastic amusement. "Yes, Love?"

Her pout was impatient and irascible. "Why do you pay me no attention, Darien? I have been home two days, and all you seem to do is avoid me. Have I displeased you?"

I casually removed my precious book from her taught grip and replaced it on the table. "No, you have done nothing. My sister died, Anne. Do you expect me to act frivolous after such a trauma?"

She laughed mockingly. "But, you are a man! Men do not harbor such feelings. That is for a woman to worry about."

"Is that so?" I looked at her with utter incredulity. Surely she could not be so blind?

"Quite so. Men need to be strong, it is that simple."

"So they cannot feel sadness, or love, or happiness, or anger?"

She smirked sheepishly, tangling her blunt fingers in the nape of my hair. "They can feel all those things, my dear, all except sadness and loss. They shouldn't cry - it is unnatural and unappreciated. To cry is weak and pointless - I never have shed a tear so easily, so no man should. After all, men are supposed to be the stronger gender."

At that moment I felt immense pity for her. She could not cry. Was she so inhumane, so cold? Did she really oppose such viable emotions? "So what, prey tell, am I, if I am not a man?"

She shrieked briefly with laughter, settling herself forcedly into my embrace. "How absurd, you are of course a man. You have never exhibited such folly."

I extracted myself from her grip and rose to dress for another pointless day. "You are wrong - I have done all those things. I cried for Rosa. I wept in the very bed in which you lie. I mourned and wished for death to take me too, so that I would not have to suffer the anguish of her loss. But where were you through all my pain? You claim to love me so, and yet you keep your distance at a time when you would be needed most. No doubt you were pleasuring some naïve young ne'er do well, 'teaching' him the essentials of life."

Anne sat indifferently on the feathery surface as my voice rang heatedly through the damp morning air. I knew I meant none of those things, and my confessions would fall on deaf ears. And even deeper down I knew I was only angry at myself. Serena now loathed me. She thought me deceitful and unfeeling. As far as she knew I had used her for her looks, and was interested in nothing more.

That was untrue and unfathomable.

"Have you quite finished?" Anne said lazily, brushing back the plush blankets with practiced nonchalance.

I breathed a deep sigh and sank dejected to the bed. What was the point? Anne was far too self-involved to care how I felt. She considered me her claim to wealth and admiration, far beyond what she had presently. I knew this and still tolerated her. But for my own reasons, the same ones that made me keep my distance from a certain angel.

And yet, even though I knew these devices were employed, I felt an insane rage build in the depths of my being. I wanted to hurt her, to cause her pain beyond anything imaginable. I wanted to prove to Serena that I was true, and that I was honestly falling in love with her.

Yes… I was falling in love with her.

The thought of my sudden shift in emotions made my blood run cold. Had it really taken me so long to realize my own feelings? Love was not something that immediately came to mind with thoughts of her. My first thought was usually, 'I wish I could hear her laugh.' But now that I stopped to think, it was blatantly obvious. I was beginning to love her deeply.

"Darien, what is it? You're so pale all the sudden."

Anne's contrived comment redirected my train of thoughts to a rueful place. A place where no decent fantasy would dare lie and where no dream could ever inhabit, for nothing can grow from insipid ground just like nothing can dwell in an insipid mind. She was my fiancé, my betrothed, my noose. She was the reason Serena couldn't bare to look at me, and was avoiding me completely. And with time and our approaching marriage, these problems would only mount and intensify.

But throughout all my regrets and speculations, one thought rang clear above all others…

'Even things that seem impossible can sometimes spawn miracles.'

I calmed with remembrance of that fateful day. It was the turning point of my life.

With swirling conclusions and an aching heart I rose from the sullen four-poster bed and sauntered deftly towards the door.

"Where are you going? Your attire is not decent." Anne fluttered to my side, a stern pout embodying her pursed lips.

I chuckled genuinely at her show of modesty, as she clutched tightly to the sheet held at her breast. Such diffidence was uncharacteristic of her. "And who will see me, exactly? The sun has yet to rise. I shall be back before it does." And with that said, I turned my back and exited the room, barricading the door in my wake.

It was time for me to pursue my true love.

-;-'-

The light wisps of shy rain tickled my cheeks softly as I strode out across the courtyard towards the servants' quarters. The impertinent sky loomed threateningly overhead, flashing with menace, and occasionally shifting its various shades of gray and black. The air was unsettlingly still - not a breath of wind to be felt, and I was absently reminded of the calm before a tumultuous storm.

Intermittent clicks reached my startled ears, just as I was mere feet from my destination. I turned to see a pure white horse galloping along the shapely cobblestone pavement, its rider shrouded in a russet overcoat of coarse gabardine. The hoarse barely drew to a halt before the man alit nimbly, and deftly advanced on my startled form.

It was not until I felt firm knuckles collide with my jaw that my senses returned with acute pain. I reeled, clutching the offended area as a trickle of crimson blood slinked sluggishly to my chin.

"How dare you, cousin," Andrew spat, throwing back the hood that inhibited his movements.

"W-What?" I edged away, unused to seeing him so distraught.

"I received a message from Mina yesterday. She told me what you did to her maid."

I merely stood aghast, unable to form a coherent thought.

Andrew sensed my ignorance and continued brashly. "You openly ridiculed her, humiliated her to suit your own fascist ego. It matters little that she is of a lower class. You had no right to treat her so." He towered over me, infuriated. "I should beat you senseless."

I lowered my head shamefully. "Go ahead."

"Excuse me?"

"I deserve to be beaten. I deserve nothing less than you can inflict. Go ahead."

Andrew seemed to lose some of his pent up rage as he considered my curious offer. "You are not serious!"

I felt bitter regret well up inside my constricted chest. I needed to be punished, I needed to feel something. Anything to take away the guilt and forlorn, for no pain could ever equal those emotions!

So, my dastardly mind formed memories long forgotten and I struck as low as I could. "Oh, are you not brave enough to lash out at me? Are you really such a coward? I am amazed that Mina would have you so. She likes to have a man in control. I should know, shouldn't I? She has been 'very' dominant of me. And such dirty, nasty things, she has done, touched, tasted. Having her as my mistress was, indeed, a pleasure!"

My recounting of past events was rewarded with a firm blow to the stomach. A harsh breath escaped my lips, my lungs refusing to let another enter. But I had evoked a chain of obscenities that refused to let me stop there. I needed this. Only then would my remorse subside.

"Does the truth hurt, Andrew? Does it bother you to know that I was the first to conquer her peaks and valleys?"

His fists clenched, a vein throbbing at his temple. I was hitting all his hidden insecurities, unearthing suppressed envy.

"Hold your tongue," he hissed threateningly, "Else I will rip it from your head."

"You won't," I smirked superiorly. "For what would Mina say? She cared so much for me, and still does, quite avidly too. Why just the other night, she-"

I never got the change to finish that fabrication. In a fit of unrivaled anger, Andrew swept towards me and struck me down repeatedly. I felt his hands grip me like vengeful claws, tearing at the tender pink flesh of my skin. His clenched fists bore into me with unrestrained force, conjuring the discharge of blood from my throat and causing all my appendages to cry with searing pain. I felt numerous splitting collisions with my delicate face and cringed with the thought of an unsightly scar, which would follow painful stitching.

But throughout this self-inflicted torture, I felt no redemption for my guilt.

Andrew's chestnut eyes softened slightly as I coughed up another wave of blood. "There! Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted, Darien? Did you think you would feel better for the pain?"

I remained silent, reveling in self-pity.

He scoffed acerbically. "I didn't think so. But why - that is what I would like to know? Why act so fictitious for a woman you hate?" He sat placidly beside me on the wet cobblestone, patiently waiting for a reply.

I propped myself painfully on one elbow, and regarded him with skepticism. "Andrew, I do not hate Serena."

He chuckled quietly. "I gathered… But I meant Anne."

My eyes flittered to his, wary enveloping my thoughts. "I-I do not hate my own fiancé."

"really? Well you do not like her much then." He reached into one heavily stuffed pocket and produced a large silk handkerchief. He offered it to me, and as I took it said, "You don't put up much of a fight, do you?"

I grinned, but grimaced as I felt the twinge at my jaw. "Yes, well… I deserved a good beating, did I not!" I dabbed the pooling blood gently before addressing him once more. "Raye told me you would be arriving today. I was…hoping I could speak with you."

He rose to his feet, a mischievous grin forming on his pallid lips. "Of course, but maybe we should head inside. The rain is worsening."

He extended a hand to help me up, which I grasped gratefully, and slowly I limped toward the manner, and distanced myself from her.

But the weather was relentless, and within an hour the blackened sky rumbled forebodingly, and flared with tremendous displays of white wrath. And through it all, unknown to me, a little curly haired angel lay terrified in her bed, deathly fearful of rising to work.

But more so, afraid to let anyone know.

-

Um, sorry. That was a little overly dramatic. But I am still learning how to write so bear with me. Tell me what you think, CRITICISM is encouraged.

: ) Aísling a.k.a. Lingy ( :