Sorry for the long wait. Work has been CRAZY! This story has a bit of a long intro, but Jasper will enter the fray at the end of the next chapter. So basically chapter #4 is when the party really starts. I hope you can stay with me and thank you all for still reading this and Amative. I have been neglecting you and I apologize.
Sacrifices.
She hated the sea, at first. Because Robbie had crashed into sea. His body had been taken away by the sea. His life swallowed whole and her soul buried beneath it. That goddamned sea.
Blenheim Palace was confining her, though. Which perhaps was even worse than the sea.
Her mother wanted her to be on her best behaviour, pretend as if nothing was wrong, because 'smile for the camera's, dear, the entire nation is watching', but who cared about the nation? Her brother was gone.
And every time she wondered the halls of the Palace, there was another memory accosting her, of him, of her, of them and then, up till the point where she could not take it anymore and just had to escape.
Drown.
Not in the sea, though. And she diligently starting cutting the coke, once a month, twice a week, daily, and for a while it helped. She was able to forget.
Stardust and wings. But she could only fly so far, before she would crash down to earth again.
When her father came to her room that night, she named the first thing that came to mind and it was drowning, and ease, and sea, that traitorous sea.
Balmoral Castle.
That castle, practically born from salt and cliffs, sea and tides, and the only place she wished to go. To get away from everything Robbie; to get nearer Robbie.
Balmoral Castle, and Eleanor was fucking scared.
The first night there she couldn't sleep. The sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs, against the castle. Against her bared soul and skin. It had kept her awake all through the night.
She had promised her father, the King, not to use any drugs and no amount of alcohol or weed available in the castle was enough to settle her mind.
The second night she went up the cliffs, demanded for the sea to be quiet. Because it had already taken everything from her; why couldn't the ocean let her rest? There was no answer, but the continuous crashing of the waves against the cliffs, but as she tired of shouting, the deep tired of rolling into the rocks, and they simultaneously fell quiet in the dead of the night, both exhausted and worn out by the coming of low tide.
She descended the cliffs then and rolled into bed, and decided tomorrow she would do it again. Because it would not bring Robbie back and it might've been stupid, but she felt like the sea understood.
The fifth night was the first she didn't yell nor shout. She simply drank her wine, listened to the low tide and only went back down when high tide returned. Her father looked concerned, but said nothing about his daughter's unkempt appearance, the slight tang of salt clinging to her, that night during dinner and when Helena opened her mouth to comment, he silenced her with just a look.
The seventh night she started to tell the ocean of her brother.
My brother which you took and are never giving back. I know now.
And in the crashing of the waves or the absence of there was a pattern and what she had suspected the second night, became rooted in her mind the seventh, because the sea listened and the sea understood, and maybe it wasn't giving Robbie back, but there was so much else the deep could offer her, if only she took the time to listen.
Sometimes she thought of jumping off the cliff, letting the sea take her away as well, but she knew that wasn't what Robbie wanted and she wasn't willing yet to make that ultimate sacrifice.
'I need to go out,' she told James, her bodyguard, the eleventh night. 'I need to do something.'
He was a good man, father to a little girl he saw not often enough, and he could almost consider the Princess his own. He cared for her, more than some of her immediate family seemed to.
'I know a place,' he said, because he had already done his research, had scouted the area around Balmoral Castle and knew that even though there were not many big villages nor cities around, there were certain spots in the city of Galway where all the local youngsters gathered and perhaps company of a particular kind was simply what the Princess needed at the moment.
They drove perhaps an hour and a half in which Eleanor consumed two bottles of wine on her own. She had offered to pour James a glass as well, but he had declined graciously.
'Do you think he knew?' she asked, when they scoured the shore a bit too close and the boisterous sea could be seen breaking against the cliffs, several feet beneath them.
'Knew what, Your Highness?' James asked carefully.
'That he would die?'
He had no answer to her question and he didn't believe she expected him to.
He was glad when they reached the city, because her silence the rest of the way had been unnerving, and he could see a ghost of a smile on her face when she saw where he was taking her. She knew Halo, had heard of the award-winning club and had always wanted to go there, back in the UK.
She and Robbie had made plans to go there.
It was only fitting then, that she came here, with the ghost of her brother's demise and her own desolation watching over her shoulder.
The music was loud, the main room was dark, the bodies were hot and completely against protocol James went and got her a drink. Lagavulin, neat. She didn't question how he knew, Lord bless him, and cheers to you, Robbie, because here she was, nursing his favorite drink in the club they were supposed to explore together.
James took his spot again the far wall, standing a bit higher than the rest of the crowd, permitting him an unobstructed view of her.
She was already making her way into the crowd, pushing aside people, smiling when they recognized her, and soon enough she had gathered a following. They were dancing, jumping, yelling in each other's ears – there was this one guy putting his hands on her, kissing her neck, and his father instincts reeled, but as her bodyguard she stayed put, because she seemed to enjoy it and all he wanted was for her to roister – and drinking, always drinking.
That night she took him home, the boy that had been kissing her neck, and she made James take the long way back, never straying from the shore, driving through Murroogh, and Fanore, and Doolin and stopping at every single one of those seaside villages.
The sea was still roaring and perhaps it always did when the Princess was watching. When they arrived back at the castle it was nearly dawn and already low tide, but she still took him up the cliffs to watch the waves, even though they were barely there anymore.
She didn't know his name and he called her Lenny, but it didn't bother her as much as it should.
They sat and he spoke and she didn't listen, and when she tired of his talking she kissed him. He tasted like salt and a bit of the sea, so when he pushed of her clothes, she let him. His hands were feverish or perhaps it was her skin, but he got her wet and he kissed her tits, so again, she let him. His moans were almost in sync with the sea and when the first rays of sunlight fell on his face, she thought that perhaps he was beautiful. So she let him.
When he fucked her from behind, she stared into the rising sun and when a bird's silhouette dove down and cannoned into the sea, she pretended the shag was Robbie and smiled.
That morning she slept peacefully, after a very long time, and it wasn't because of the man in her bed.
The following night she told James they were to stay in. She had him get her two bottles from the cellar, one of whiskey, the other simply wine, and she went up the cliffs with two glasses in hand.
She filled the round whiskey glass to the brim, then pulled back her arm and with all the power she had, threw it off the cliff. It floated, for just a second, and then it plummeted down.
'This one's for you, Robbie,' she shouted and she hoped he could hear her.
The sea was being loud again, she couldn't hear the glass shatter, so she pretended it was still drifting in the sea, finding its way to Robbie.
'You are selfish,' she spoke against the explosive waves. 'You took my brother, but what have you given me?'
The water stilled. Unmoving and eerie and only the foam on the rocks indicated its gone by turbulence.
'You admit it, then,' Eleanor murmured. 'You are selfish.'
'I think I saw Robbie yesterday,' she then said. 'A shag, barrelling down into the sea. Crossing the sun, looking for all means like a fallen star.'
She smiled then, as recognition crept upon her slowly. Awareness taking its time to come to full fruition and understanding. And perhaps she was crazy, but she most certainly was not.
'I brought you a man to look upon and you gave me my brother,' she said. Smiled and understood.
'A deal I can live with.'
Perhaps you are not as selfish as I thought.'
What little remained in the bottle of whiskey she poured down directly into the ocean. Holding the bottle upside down, she smirked.
'This one's for you, my selfish friend. This is for you.'
The next morning, she went to her father and asked if she was allowed to throw a little party. If he was surprised by her request, he didn't show it. Helena was delighted and gave her Rachel, to help plan and such because you cannot tire yourself with menial tasks such as catering and music. You must give her the guest list and then focus on looking the part, dear daughter.
She let her mother fuss about her, dress her in frilly dresses, only to practically rip them off her again, when they proved to be not to her liking. They decided on a short, open back black piece, with long sleeves and a high neckline, and her mother donned her in jewellery almost twice her weight.
Liam was next and he sat through it all quietly, because it had been a long time, such a long time, since Eleanor had ever wanted to do anything but smoke and snort and swallow.
Rachel made sure their friends were flown over, and she said their but everyone knew Eleanor had no real friends, not anymore, so Rachel also invited some of the local Irish aristocracy, though she suspected most were just glorified farmers that somewhere in history had started to fancy themselves lords and knights.
Eleanor wouldn't care, she decided, and as long as Helena didn't know, she had nothing to find fault with.
So that night the local farmer's boy was announced as Lord Seamus O'Ahern the Second and while the boy looked thoroughly embarrassed, Helena seemed pleased and Eleanor liked him well enough, as they were inseparable the rest of the night.
'Are you enjoying yourself,' Liam asked her as he found her halfway through the night, looking out of the window at sea. Seamus was on the other side of the ballroom, getting them a drink.
She smiled at her brother and nodded.
'It's good,' she said. 'To be with people again.'
'Seamus seems nice,' Liam said. She grinned, nudged his shoulder with hers, and for a moment she seemed like the old Eleanor. But then she looked at the sea again and though her smile didn't drop, something changed. He wondered whether this move had been good for her, even though she had been the one to request it.
'He's nice, yes,' she agreed. 'Unfortunately.'
When they first kissed, on top of the cliffs, just before low tide, he tasted of honey and whiskey and promise, and she briefly wondered whether he was too sweet to belong to the sea. But his semen was just as salt as the ocean and when he spilled his seed into her mouth, she decided he would fit in just fine.
He was a good lover, an attentive one, and when he made her come for the second time that night, she felt bad for having to let him go. But only for a second.
'Do you know this is called the Leap of the Foals?' she asked as she got up and he nodded at her. Of course he knew. He was born here, probably knew every myth and legend surrounding the cliffs and the castle.
'Do you believe it?' she asked. 'That they were blinded by the sunlight and then fell to their deaths?'
He came to stand next to her, adjusting his balls inside of his boxers, looking pensive, and she had to laugh, because he looked ridiculous and endearing at the same time.
'I believe,' he started, 'that when you live in darkness for too long, you can lose sight of what is good for you and this could result in ruin, downfall. Perhaps even death.'
'I agree,' she said with a smile, but her tone was almost fatalistic, as she stood dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. He grabbed her arm, but she shrugged him off, laughing lightly.
'I have nothing to fear from the sea,' she grinned. 'She's my mistress or whatever you want to call it. She already has my brother; she cannot have me whole.'
He smirked, kissing her temple.
'If the sea is your mistress, then I am your handsome sailor,' he said. She stepped nearer the edge and mindlessly he followed her.
'That you are,' she whispered against his lips, turning them, so she was facing the sea and he with his back towards it.
She kissed him languidly, her tongue caressing his ever so slowly, and as he moaned she slipped a hand into his boxers. Already he was hard again and she almost regretted it. Almost.
But all sailors must always return to the sea. So she pushed.
She pushed.
He took a step back, his lips separating from hers, but he was already at the edge and there was nowhere else for him to go. Nowhere but down.
He cried out, high-pitched and shrill. Reached for her, but was already falling and too far gone. So far gone. He screamed all the way down, wailed, and then, suddenly, it stopped.
And she wondered if Robbie had screamed when he crashed down. Whether he had sounded the same. If this was what it had felt like for him. For her, had she been there. But then she determined that, no, he wouldn't have. Because Robbie's voice had been lower, much lower, thus so would've been his screams. He was a Prince. The Prince. Robbie would not have gone down like this. He would've kept his dignity.
It was fine, though, she decided.
'Here you go, Robbie,' she whispered as she climbed down the cliff again. 'You're not alone anymore.'
There it was again, the shag, cannoning down into the sea, just like a falling star. Just like Robbie.
She smiled.
She could always try again tomorrow.