Geordo sat on the sofa which he used to receive guests, nursing a chalice full of wine in one hand, staring dazed at the darkened nothingness on the roof of his chambers.
Dark. Nothing. Lifeless. Plastered. Perfect.
His mind was wandering. The rebellion was over, but he was still reeling from the effects of it. There were so many lives and deaths on his hands, a weight so unsustainable that he does not know how he will ever be able to shoulder it in peace. What he could not save, what he lost, it is tugging him down.
Once upon a time, when they were little more than children, his brother used to say that he was perfect. If only he was perfect. If only he was quicker, smarter, stronger, more powerful. If he did not let himself to be fooled. If he just surrendered himself to the rebels' demands, he could have stopped the horrors upon this land. So many others would have been saved.
What is Geordo even thinking? He does not care for any of those. He would die and kill much more, if only not to feel the pain of one death in particular. None other hurt him as much as hers did.
Catarina Claes. The only woman he truly loved. He loved her with every inch and fibre of his being. There was no part of him that does not ache for her touch. He did not want her to die. He would have done anything to stop her death, but he could not help it. He could only watch as she bled out in front of him.
The prince tried convincing himself that he hated her. He hated her for leaving him, hated her for saving his life giving her own instead. He hated her for putting his life over her own, which in his eyes was a hundred times more worthy then his own. It should not be that difficult, there had been a day when he hated just about everyone.
He tried, he tried so much, but he knew he was just kidding himself. How could he hate someone as perfect as her? She put everything above herself.
Every memory of her faded in his mind. All Geordo could think of was what he should have said when he had her in his arms, feeling her touch on skin. Staring into her celeste eyes, shining with love looking into his, her fingers in his blond hair, messing what he took great care into looking like perfection.
If he thought hard, if he conjured every memory that he jealously held over his short life, he could still feel her lingering touch, but it is not enough. It will never be enough.
The prince thought of everything he could have said to Catarina. How he could have told her that he loves her, that she is not just a decoy against vulture-like noblewomen, how he wanted to actually marry her one day, how he wanted to have as many children as she wished, how he would give everything and everyone to the devil for her. Alas, there were many things that were left unspoken.
They said time can heal, but that was a wound that Geordo doubted would ever heal. Regret. That is all he felt. No other emotion but sadness, grief and regret filled his body, and there is no hope of relief to come.
He does not know how much she was hurting inside those last days, too wrapped up in his own head, his own interests and preoccupations, forgetting the one he loved. Catarina took care of him although she herself was broken, beyond repair with the heartache she had suffered. To lose one's family to the attacks is not easy, after all.
She smiled like nothing was wrong, it was as if everything was okay in her life, as if no pain filled her heart. Her smiling face plagued his mind.
Geordo wished that there was something he could have said to her before she died and left him and all others behind, going to a happier and safer place, or so he liked to think. In his eyes, she deserved nothing but love and support. He wished he was more present in her life, wishing he could have done something to ease her pain.
He took another swig of the wine in his hand and closed his eyes. He thought that her death was worse than anything in the world, but in reality, it was the idea that Catarina died hurting inside, completely broken and with the thought that she was alone was what killed him more.
He walked to his sleeping area clumsily, not really drunk but a bit tipsy. He walked to his dressing table and removed a box from the drawer. He lifted the lid and went through the contents. It was the last piece of Catarina that he possessed.
Having no kin left behind, all her earthly possessions, and they were plentiful, reverted back to the crown. He tried to be generous and share whatever it is left in an equitable manner. Maria had the jewels, Sophia got the books, Mary owned the land, Alan had the artwork and Nicol kept her working tools.
This, however, is his own and he is not to share.
In the box, Geordo pulled out a few letters addressed to him. He opened the first one and read it for the tenth time since he got it. It was from when they were fourteen, a few months before going to the academy. As he read the contents, his mind flashed back to the day of the incidents.
The prince remembered it as clearly as if it was yesterday, the ball. It was early Winter and the crown was holding a celebration for the military victories achieved over the Autumn.
He dreaded the occasion, finding no enjoyment at the public scrutiny, but with Catarina as his date, how could he not have fun?
Dear Geordo,
I know I will never have the guts to send you this letter, but maybe one day you will get to read this.
Tonight, you took me to a ball at the palace. We went as friends, as an engaged couple in name only. I wait patiently for when you finally put an end to this charade, but I don't want that day to ever come, too. At least, in this weird agreement we have, I can still be around you.
Wait, that's creepy.
You get the picture, right? I really like you, Geordo. I want nothing more than to be your girlfriend, but I don't know if you even like me that way. Maybe I'll confess to you one day, who knows?
You looked really good today in that white set of dress robes. They really bring out your eyes. We matched too!
Anyways, I was supposed to be writing you a thank-you note for your company tonight, so I'm going to do just that. Thank you for asking me to the ball, I had a lot of fun and I hope we get to do that again.
Mother had me tailored a dark blue gown, which I love because it is the exact shade of your gaze in the shadow. Perhaps, with a little luck, I'll get to wear it soon.
Anne is calling me to sleep now. I will see you tomorrow.
Lots of love,
Yours, Catarina.
Geordo closed his eyes and a tear fell from his eyes onto the paper, blotting the ink. He missed the way you smiled when you read a trashy romance book, or danced along to sweet music, or how you convinced him to make a snow angel when it snowed.
The memories filled his mind. He does not know if he was happy about it or if it was too painful to remember.
The king's ball was in a few days and Geordo still had not got a date.
He is fourteen years old already, he has already been officially presented to the court, and he is supposed to attend the state functions such as this one with a proper date. Not any girl, that is, but his fiancée.
There is no complaint from him about having to spend an evening of dancing and conversation, of course, but things are more complicated than they might appear at first glance. He wants to court her properly, but he was too afraid to ask for her permission.
If he is not clear and direct, Catarina will easily jump to the wrong conclusion and think he is doing this just because he wants to ward off female attention. On the contrary, he wants attention from one female in particular.
That is not to mention the many other contenders vying for her attention. Geordo saw multiple boys ask her to the ball, but she seemed to decline all of them, perhaps out of a duty to their engagement. Nevertheless, he could not help thinking that she might be so quick to believe his duplicitous intentions exactly because she has duplicitous intentions of her own, that there is a man she is interested in and is leveraging their relationship to her advantage in the pursuit.
He gathered all his noble courage and walked up to Catarina.
"Good morning, Catarina. Apologies for my bluntness, but would you be so kind to go to the king's ball with me next week?" She was about to reply when Geordo's nerves kicked in and he quickly added, "As friends, of course."
He noticed her face fall but he didn't think much of it.
"Of course, Prince Geordo. I'd love to. I'm your fiancée, after all." She responded, kind and placid. "I'll wait for your letter with the details. Now, if you excuse me, Prince Alan is expecting me."
The blond teen stood there, happy that she agreed, but also internally slapping himself that he asked her as friends when he wanted more.
Geordo is now lying on the bed rummaging through the box, finding Catarina's belongings. His breath hitched when he found the locket pendant that he gave her in at their graduation. It held a lock of his hair and a small portrait of her parents, so she could keep the people she loved near her heart. He had another that he kept around his neck, similar to hers, but with only a miniature of her adorned its insides.
All their memories filled his mind and all he could think of was her face, which in his opinion was the most beautiful face in the world.
He closed his eyes, dropping the box in the process. He bent down to pick up the contents when he saw a picture fall out of a book. It was a picture of him and Catarina. He smiled at the sight of the picture. It was taken in their sixth year after he told her he loved her. He missed the old days when things were a bit better.
He opened the diary and flipped through the pages, some in the strange script that she invented, some in broken Sorcerian.
It had notes on Catarina's life, some random pictures here and there. Eventually, he reached the darkest entry in the book. It was the date she lost her whole family, when the rebellion began.
He read the words written with black ink. Each word on the paper was a gaping wound on his body issuing life blood.
I lost everything today. I don't know why I am writing this down but maybe it will help me cope. I can't break down now. I need to stay strong for Geordo. For all my friends, too. They're counting on me. I have to fight with my life against those horrid dark mages. I have to. To save and care for what little I still have.
I can't be weak. Not now. I can deal with my own problems later on, after the rebellion is quenched. I can't let my anxiety and insecurities take over my mind. Not now. Not now.
Once this nightmare is finally over, things will get better. I know Geordo can defeat them, that he can be a good king to this nation. I believe in him. He's so strong, he faced so much when he was so young. I could never survive that much trauma.
I admire his strength, and I now wish I was that strong. No point dwelling in my faults now, we have a war to win.
Geordo shut the book, unable to read further. He does not understand why Catarina felt that way. She never showed it. He could not comprehend how someone so strong and brave could put herself down like that.
She called him brave, when he was far from that. He kept lashing out, taking his anger out on everyone, but she did none of that. She did not cry, she kept everything inside for his sake. She was the strong one in the relationship, not him.
The prince felt guilt take over his heart once again, he felt that this is all his own fault. He felt he did not do enough to help his love out of her cage of insecurity.
Geordo wished he had done more, had said more and had stopped her hurting, or, at the very least, reduced it. He wished there was a way for him to reach her once and ask if he could have stopped her pain. He blamed himself for being distracted, leading her to let herself be taken instead.
Geordo was duelling a dark mage, not paying attention to what was happening around him.
Another dark mage snuck behind up behind him and blasted the wall he was standing in front of. Catarina saw him and pushed her fiancé out of the way, taking the brunt of the falling bricks herself.
At that moment, he gave the final blow to the scum he was fighting, and they fall to their knees as a blood-chilling scream erupts through his throat.
"No!" Geordo cried, pushing the bricks away from her frail body, as many as he could hold each time.
His hands became dirty with dust and blood, whose he has no clue of. He forces himself to not think about such a thing.
"No, no, no." He whispered.
The prince is finally freed her from the mountain of bricks and nestled her in his arms. A few tears rolled down his cheeks.
"Maria! Help!" He shouts. "Someone, please! Do something!"
"Don't cry, Prince Geordo." Catarina whispers weakly, too weak. This only made the tears fall faster. "I'm not worth your tears."
She weakly reached up and wiped the tears off his dirty face.
"Why?" Geordo croaked. "You didn't have to die for me. I don't want you to die for me."
"Oh Geordo, I'd give my life a thousand times over to save yours. I'll love you forever and always. No matter what, I'll always watch over you."
He tightens his hold on her battered body. "Don't leave me. I'm ordering you, don't leave me!"
Geordo pressed a feverish kiss to Catarina's lips, forehead, hair, pale cheeks. She was getting colder every minute.
"I'll always be with you. In here." She placed her hand on his heart and smiled.
Her hand become limp and dropped down. Her last breath of life taken. He freely cried over her dead body.
Soon, it was over. Prince Geordo of Stuart found the head of the rebellion and slaughtered them beyond any recognition. For his pivotal role in the conflict, he was chosen as the Crown Prince and began to lead the government in a purge against dark mages.
He accepted the role with pride, he had to avenge the deaths of all those who were killed in the rebellion, but it was not enough to make him not wish that he was dead. So, he charged into battle, went with a brave face to the one he loved most.
A no small part of him yearned to see Catarina's smiling face again, and he hoped that he would see her again when he was no more.
Geordo sat up on his bed, leaving the box aside.
As he closed his eyes he wondered if there would have been a different outcome, a butterfly effect of sorts, if he had been more direct, if he had been able to make Catarina understand how much he loved her. If he let his walls down, if he had been vulnerable around his fiancée, maybe she would not have felt so alone and weak. She would have understood that she could rely on him. If he let her in fully, he could have let her know that he too was weak in a way, he too needed to let out his emotions.
It is too late now. She is gone and there was nothing Geordo could do about it.
As he drifted off to sleep, one thought lingered in his mind. If there was something he could have said to make it all stop hurting her. If he could have eased her mind before she went. It truly killed him how her mind could make her feel so worthless, how her belief system was built on an unwavering belief that she did not matter to anyone around her. How could that stand, when she was practically the centre of their whole world.
There is no-one left now to answer his question. All there is amounts to a gaping hole in Geordo's heart, one that could only be filled by love from Catarina. She was no more with him.
He would never hear her voice again, never feel her touch, all that remains in his heart is guilt, regret and sadness. There is nothing anyone could do to fix it, only resignation to the years until his natural death.
The kingdom must prosper, but the king shall wither.
