Taken Back
I almost do not believe that he has uttered such words, but he did.
He whispered a thousand lines of poetry written by the finest in only seven words. His eyes only examine with a sweet fondness, and I could swear that by this alone he has sculpted my chaste body with hands of passion. Only in my company and within my knowledge for a small number of days; yet, it feels like a lifetime or two. Clutching onto the mirror and barely holding myself together, I allow a single tear.
No one may understand the impression of one to me. I may lack the cooperation and the patience to explain; for it would lead to me explaining everything else about myself. Something that I can never allow to take place.
Nonetheless, I do not have to tell him. Every visible aspect of him tells me that he does understand. He knows me in the same way that I know him. It doesn't matter what I've done or what his past actions have been. The only fact that continues to stun me is how I yearn for him in a way that I have only felt once before.
I lower the mirror and as if by some invisible spell, everything in front of me has faded. He has changed my world. He is everything. He is my world.
"I-" my voice croaks unpleasantly, blemished by raw emotion. Clearing my throat, I also decide to sit for a while, "I would like to give you something as well. If you will accept it."
Taking my actions as an invitation, he sits on the same ledge surrounding the apple tree. Only the looking glass lies between us. "So much has already been given to me. What more could I want for?"
"A name." I say it so suddenly and realize that maybe I am too rash for suggesting it. "I would like to give you a name, if and only if, you would like me to."
Again, that thick silence of unsaid adoration and gratitude stands just as vulnerable between us as our very hearts. Bared to each other and neither are fleeing. The ivory of his teeth flash through the dim ambiance. Slowly, I try to engrave his image through the murkiness of memory, despised and treasured. This night will be held inside as beloved above all, even if I already know that he will have to remain as unobtainable.
"You honor me with such a request, my queen." The glare of his rings catches my sight. Emerald and ruby set next together. "What name have you chosen?"
"Alim." The arched sound of the "a" is attempted as his accent demands. I remember it from one of the tales that he had recounted during our one day together. "Like the holy man you spoke of."
"The one who bade the prince to not marry the merchant's daughter." With a stroke of his mustache, he adds lightly. "A wise man."
"It is a beautiful name when you say it." One of my fond memories is of his broad voice enunciating the name. "I say it so plainly and so indelicately that all the beauty of it is lost."
He raises a finger in so efficient a manner that it catches my attention immediately. I watch him place the long digit behind his ear and bid me to listen. "Ah-leem."
The sound is both closed and open. His tongue hangs high against his palate as he exhales the sound once more. "Ah. My queen, if you want the sound then you must practice."
I shudder against the coarseness of his palm as it rest against my cheek. Fingertips press under and behind my jawbone. I bring my own hand to cover hi and sink into the feel of him against me. He only pauses for a second before continuing with the dictation lesson.
"Ah."
It catches in my throat as I try to emit the same sound. "Aah."
"Too long. It should be short." His thumb moves over my face in a light caress. "Try to think of it as the moment before a sneeze. It won't sound pleasant to your ears at first but with practice, it will improve."
Once more, he repeats the sound.
I try to imagine how it must feel inside his throat and nose. How the air scrapes against the back of his mouth, traveling over the roof of the mouth. My mouth opens wide like his.
"Ah-leem."
It's slow. It's raspy. I would be embarrassed if anyone else heard me but when he smiles at like so. Eyes ablazed. Hand underneath mine touching so softly. For him, I would repeat the word millions of times.
"Flawless." The way he says the praise makes me question if he means how the said the word or me, in particular. "Perfection."
Once more, I wonder what he is referring to. The pads of his finger travel down my cheekbone to stroking my chin. The expression in his stare tells me more than can be said. For a split second, I let myself go. I muzzle his warm palm and wish that I had the courage to lightly kiss the single vein that bulges at the wrist. I hold the limb closely between my hands and interlock mine with his.
Moon and sun joined together.
"Thank you for your kindness, Alim."
"And for yours, my-" Ever softly, he rephrases his sentence, "Regina. Truly. Thank you."
His grip tightens lightly around my hand. It makes me feel good to know he's here, to know that he wants to be here, and that he is happy. Everything feels perfect for once.
Time is a very contradictive thing. My time with Daniel always seemed to be cut short. A day of riding and swimming passed in the blink of an eye. The years I spent under my mother's dominion were an eternity. They summed my childhood and adolescence; if you had asked me then, I would have conducted that as my very existence.
Everything that I have loved or has loved me never lasts. That may be the bitterest conclusion I could ever make about fate's treatment of me. It's the only fear that I have and just as it seems to come, it is gone. I am so lost in it, I barely spot Alim moving the mirror to the side and moving closer.
Generally, I would expect any man to grab me. Kiss me senseless. Hands are prone to wander. Yet, he has surprised me before and is doing so now. Arranging his seating position with such hushed leisure, he ends up with one leg propped up on the concrete and leaning on it for balance. I do envy such freedom of movement; the restraint of hoops and skirts only adds to the invisible bars that divide the cells of my prison.
"You're very blessed, Alim." His new name fits well on my tongue. "You were trapped and now you are free to go out into the world and do as you wish. Be who you want. I envy you for that."
Slightly dazed by my words, he draws in a deep breath. His ribs expand then detract under the dusty flesh. In a sense, I suspect that he is conflicted by this but I don't understand which aspect is most catching. He is truly liberated, I wish for him to see it and to enjoy it; savor every detail that will be kept from me.
"What is there to envy-" He looks at me and somehow I know that he is searching for permission. I have no other desire than to hear him say my name, so I only encourage with a nod. "Regina, you are as free as you allow."
My immediate response erupts as lost. Bewildered. "Aren't there always things in life that trap us? Laws, expectations, marriages." My resolve collapses on itself as I hear the memory of my mother dig her claws inside me and my voice becomes hers. "And love. Love is a weakness."
At once, I am gone. So, is Alim. All that stands is the fury. My choking bitterness and hate. Inside of me, it contorts and twists in a perverse dance with Daniel's memory. I couldn't save him from my mother but the worst is that I didn't save him. I should have just let him go because he was my weakness and my mother knew that.
Somewhere in the depths of my being, the education of brutality that my mother provided me was overcome by the temptation that only contemptuous hope could provide.
Slowly, Alim relinquishes me from it all; I cannot explain how I know this. Somehow I hear him through this state of permanent devastation with the simplest words. "I am free because of love."
With an intimidation drawn from the fear of loss, he timidly traces the top of my hand. He had it already drawn to his chest and laid it palm against sternum.
"It gave me hope, Regina, that someday I would find it. No matter how many centuries passed, I kept dreaming that I would free and able to pursue."
"Are you still searching?" I ask because I must know; even if the answer is as obvious as gray on a rainy day or as elusive as the capture of magic. However, I am very much terrified at what his answer may be. My fingers curl over the hairless expanse that peeks through his vest.
His eyes close at my tiny ministrations of touch. I draw small circles; dots and planets in my sensory imagination. My slightly lengthened nails scrape ruggedly as I examine the escape of sighs and fluttering of eyes for any discomfort. No discontinuation shows of his pleasures shows at my own enjoyment. I like this; I have forgotten how good it feels to touch someone.
Having someone with the knowledge that they want you with as much or more fervor is possibly one of the greatest liberties and aphrodisiacs combined. I can believe it because I have yet to experience more freedom than I do in this moment of being able to touch the man as the lover that I wish to be, and have. My body has never been wracked with more simmering sensations of ecstasy and want.
A realization that I had never considered causes my seeking caresses to slide up his neck to his chiseled chin. He gapes at me, admiring in a way, pleading in another, but altogether desiring. Weakly, I smile because one of the most impactful truths has become apparent; to be human is to be free.
Loving, is human. Desire, is human. Struggle, is human.
I have denied myself of liberty, of being human, by giving in to my dark side. I have become a puppet for Rumpelstiltskin, and a reminder of the sick notions of my mother. I gave myself up without protest.
"My queen." He remains so still that I wonder if there is a possibility that my magic has seeped through. I trace a cheekbone, smooth and unkind. His voice rasps so low that I feel the sound resonating inside me. Throbbing between my waist and pelvic bone. "My love-"
Suddenly, the cry of a horrendous creature sounds out. "Regina!"
The king. My mind races around for any routes for escape. I released Alim as soon as I heard Leopold but now I clutch onto him even tighter. He holds my face as though I were made of glass. I tug at his shoulders and urge him pleadingly. "You must go. If he finds you here, I won't be able to see you ever again."
Uncertainty rises up in his voice. "Regina, he is a giving man. He may allow-"
I place my hands against lips of naivety and lean my forehead to his. "No, Alim. I have been his property for years and he is not as he seems. Believe me. Please."
My breath hits his and my mouth follows onto his. For a moment, I am in another life. I dine on the sweetest wine. I only feast on the ripest and most rare of fruits. Every morning is entwined in him. The divine flavor of him transports me to heaven.
He moves his lips slow. The top skims and the bottom presses. Flesh is put together fervently but yet there is no rush. The heat in my core from before flushes, tangles, and grows. All conscious reasoning and rational- All gone.
I had questioned initially if I would ever feel again. Simply feel. Everything had become numbed, except for hate. I can no longer comprehend that. I only know this.
Him. Hands tangled in my hair and pulling me closer. He wishes for me. No sensible explanation for how I know this but I do. I know that he means me no harm. He wants me to be safe in his arms. I take such comfort in that; he cares like no one else does.
Alim rolls his jaw to the side, finding a tender spot in my mouth that makes me moan viciously. Long and deep, my sound flows. Feeling him smile at that, I decide to fulfill my own longing. I nip at his bottom lip and hot it between my teeth. Licking and sucking, I release it with a full kiss back. The action drives Alim to his own drowned groan as I place tiny kisses on his neck.
"Regina!"
This time Leopold seems much closer than before and possibly drunker. "Where have you- gone-"
I stand and fix my appearance back to that of the untouched queen. Alim stares at the opened halls with helplessness. I know he owes the king his liberty and as I tend to my lipstain; I sympathize for a moment. It seems to Alim as though I am unfair but I know that he will understand everything in time.
"Go through the lower levels and they will lead to a staircase in the north hall." I place a last kiss on his lips. "It will lead you back to the main hall. No one will notice your entrance."
Before I can pull away, he kisses me deeper and stronger than before. My knees strain to hold me up so I wrap myself around him. Breaking for breath, he looks me in the eye with concern. "And what of you?"
"My beloved-" My ears detect steps coming. "Go. Go now."
My eyes barely catch his movements as he races off into the night; leaping over the lilac beds. I gasp in horror. It is a dead drop beyond their growth. I rush after him and there he is.
Already at the opposite end of the garden, unharmed and fleeing. He flashes in the moonlight. Then within a glance, Alim disappears from sight.
Now I question if he retains some of his genie magic and keeps it a secret. Already, we share so much and I feel less at odds with my surroundings. I have found someone like me.
"Your highness."
I am dreading my decision at turning around. The king stands, with much difficulty, in royal garb against the castle columns. He dresses like a king but his reddened face and glossy eyes make him into a buffoon. "You did not stay to hear the rest of my speech."
I have faced him like this many times and usually, all he requires in an open ear. Tonight though, tonight is playing out to be very different. Dangerously so.
"I needed fresh air. I was feeling unwell." I link my hands together in front of me and try to keep the conversation short. "It is still seems though that I am exhausted. I think that it would be best if I retired for tonight, my king."
Before I can clear four steps, he blocks my path.
"So soon? Without a gift for your king?"
My insides clench in immediate caution. Leopold has never threatened me with the danger of being forced. Tiny steps circle me around him and out of reaching distance. He, on the other hand, is putting up quite the struggle to stand. I cannot even say a word that will not be filled with venom or despair.
His hand flings itself out and waits. For a second, I am reminded of how my mother expected such subservience as well. Fighting against the impulse to slap his reaching limb away is the only struggle I can keep up.
"Regina." His stance is deadly and matches his tone. His impatience sets him into some semblance of sobriety. "Come here."
"Your majesty-"
A single word creates an even bigger obstacle in my only means of escape. "No."
Why can he not see the disgust in this?
Irritation emits in my sigh and finally, I step forward. It is how I imagine the march to an execution feels. His grubby hands touch my shoulders and in my mind, I see an executioner caressing blade by stone.
Leopold mutter pathetically; all words loaded with a drunk's slur. "Very- pretty. Very very pretty."
Sweaty palms slide over my body. I stare at the apple tree of my childhood, but its bare branches are not what I see. The king cups a breast in an overly rough manner. Grinding himself against my hip. I know what seeks me through the thread of his robes and the entire scene makes me sick to my stomach. This rancid subjection of my body to her father.
Oh, but my thoughts are fleeing.
They give me the cold of the executioner's block against my cheek. Muted tears over the ordeal dried against the same cheek. Memories of these yards of slaughter bring up imaginary scents of blood. Stone, wood, and hell. Any protest is screamed in this place of nightmares in my mind's resilience.
Clumsy hands sink lower. Pulling up the fabric of my skirt.
A stout man, executioner of ratted tunic and worn trousers. His boots bring his fast approach.
My hands clench at the shoulders of the king. The struggle of arms tied between holding myself in place and throwing him off.
Against the dirt, I swear I hear my grim reaper's steps scrape. I count them in frightened numerals before I realize my heart is beating faster than their repetition.
The naked flesh of my hip is exposed. The curve of skin as ivory as the bone it covers. Chill of gold and jewels burns as hairy knuckles swipe. Leopold whispers against the crook of my neck.
"You were just a girl when I married you and now-"
Before he crosses that final boundary of cloth.
Before the raised axe can fall on my misfortune.
It comes to me. Power. Magic. The windup of resentment. Every pore of hate and anger pulls me out. At once, I take back myself, my control, and my body.
An open palm of red flame blasts the letch. The wizened torso is thrown back in stunned helplessness. The force of impact undoubtedly blackened his consciousness. His body sprawls away from me and as my skirt drops back down; Leopold hits the courtyard ground.
