The Strong Grip of Soft Blankets
"I'm the king. If I don't want to leave my bed today I shouldn't have to."
I sigh. I can the see the light fighting to get in through the heavy curtains. A thin line of it has managed to sneak past and lay across the bed. I can deny it no longer. It is morning, I need to get out of bed, I have responsibilities, a kingdom to run. My position, and the power that comes with it, is one that thousands of men would kill for, yet at this moment, all I want is to stay in bed with her.
"Isolde."
I turn my head to look at her and, for a silent minute, just watch her; the steady rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathes, how delicate her cheeks look in the pale light, the way a few strands of her hair pulled from the braid she tied it in have fallen across the sheets. She looks so peaceful.
"Perfect, even as she sleeps."
My fingers run along her hair, taking in the silky texture of each dip and bump of the braid. At the end, I untie the small ribbon that holds it together and unweave the last few twists so that I can curl her hair around by fingers.
"So soft, so beautiful."
Thoughts of how she keeps asking to braid my hair drift through my mind. I don't think it's long enough to be worth it, but I also haven't objected to any of the times she has wanted to try it. There are far worse things than letting your wife play with your hair. So long as she does not ask that I attend court in it. My hair tied up in a dozen scrawny braids would not cast the visage I need.
With a quiet groan, Isolde stirs. I stop playing with her hair and remain still. I do not want to wake her. As gently as I can, I attempt to redo her braid. I tie the ribbon back around the base and look over my effort. It looks as though it will unravel if she so much as rolls over.
Isolde wraps her arms tightly around something and hugs it closer to her chest. I do not need to see her arms to know what it is, the stiffness in my neck has already informed me. Just to be sure, I reach up to check my pillows and feel only one.
"She's taken it again."
A sigh escapes me. How she keeps doing this, I do not know, but it happens. Even on nights when I know I have fallen asleep with both pillows under my head, she still manages to get it into her arms by the morning. She has told me that, since she has always slept on her side, she sleeps better when holding something, and though she has fallen asleep curled against me many nights, in the morning it is always something else she is gripping.
"Would prefer it if she would hold me that tightly."
Still, this is better than having the doll in bed with us. I never cared much for that doll, I always feel like its eyes are judging me, but Isolde adores it. So I, trying to be the generous husband, agreed to the compromise; Gwen may stay on the nightstand, but is forbidden from the bed. However, even that is not entirely true. It is more accurate to say that Gwen is "discouraged" from the bed. There have been nights when she has reached out and grabbed Gwen after I have fallen asleep. It's annoying, that she can't just let the doll be on the table, but not worth arguing over. I just do not want to wake again with that doll right in front of my face again. I do not need an adrenaline rush like that first thing in the morning.
I push the thoughts of the doll from my head. It is growing brighter outside and I should be getting out of bed, but Powers above, I do not want to!
"Why is it that blankets feel twice as heavy in the morning?"
The world outside this room is cold, busy, and constantly demanding things of me, but here, next to her, it is quiet, warm, and perfect. I can feel my mood growing sour with each passing second that I spend dwelling on the prospect of getting out of this bed.
"Delaying this will only make it worse."
Taking a deep breath, I push the blankets off myself. Then, with extreme reluctance, I sit up and swing my legs over the side of our bed. The chill of the morning air instantly banishes the warmth of the blankets. I know the floor will be cooler, but what is my other option? Roll back into bed?
"Yes, and it would be wonderful."
I should not do that. I want to, I could, but I shouldn't. Isolde would tell me that I have a responsibility to the kingdom. She's right, of course. I wish she wasn't just this once, but she's right.
"If it is my responsibility to be present at their king, should she not also be present as my queen?"
The morning would undeniably be more bearable with her by my side. I cast a glance over my shoulder at her, still blissfully asleep in the sanctuary of blankets. I reach out to place a hand on her shoulder but stop myself. For several moments, I restrain myself and just watch her sleep before acknowledging that waking her would be rude. I withdraw my hand.
"Let her be."
My feet touch down and the floor and it is as cold as I anticipated it would be. Even still, I find the willpower to stand and make my way over to my wardrobe. Inside, my clothing waits. It's made from the finest silks, cottons, and leathers from across the kingdom. Luxurious, tailored specifically to my measurements, and decorated with orphrey, many of these pieces are worth more than most make after a season's worth of labor.
"And yet, none of these feel half as soft as my sheets do right now."
I try to push, with little success, thoughts of the bed from my head as I take what I need from the wardrobe and drawers. Undershirt, doublet, breeches, belt, stockings, and boots; with these I dress myself before stepping over to the mirror.
"I look as tired as I feel."
It would not be appropriate for me present myself to the court like this, so I set myself to the task of making sure everything sits on my body well and combing through my hair. Nothing can be lopsided, no hair out of place, no lingering signs of fatigue in my posture; everything must be perfect.
As I comb my hair into place, my eyes keep looking to Isolde's reflection in the mirror. She is still asleep, resting without a care in the world with my pillow clutched firmly in her arms. Once more, I can feel the urge to go and wake her rise within me.
"Would it really be so bad to do so? Would the day not be better for us both if we were together? Are we not supposed to rule together?"
This last though causes me to pause. We should rule together, but I know there are those in my court who disagree. There are those who think of her as nothing more than an outsider, those who are blind to all her virtues and only see a commoner who has no right to be here, those who are resentful that she is sitting where they believe their daughters should be instead. Of course, they won't say such things to my face. I made sure of that.
"I was merciful with the first one, just an expulsion from court. The next one however, I won't be as kind. The next one I – ow! What?"
The comb snags on something. I lean in closer to the mirror and look for the cause of the snag. It is one of Isolde's little ribbons. She must have tied it into my hair after I fell asleep. The ember of anger forming in me is extinguished as I untie the ribbon and place it in my pocket.
"If nothing else, this can be at my side."
Refocused on readying myself, I turn towards the small table beside the mirror. To one side rests Isolde's brush, hand mirror, and flower waters, to the other, my perfumes. I open the bottle and take a deep breath. The aroma of orange oil and exotic resins fills my nose as I place a few drops over my pulse.
"Nearly ready for the day now. I only need the last few things."
Against the wall opposite our bed, there is a tall thin table, upon which rests only few precious things; the music box I gave Isolde on our wedding, the stands that hold each of our crowns, and a statue made of silver. The statue rests in the center of the table and depicts two Camavoran dragons, the most graceful creatures in my kingdom, in flight, posed as though dancing with their tails intertwined.
"Kalista's wedding gift to us. She always knew I had a fondness for them."
The silver feels cool to the touch as I run my finger along the statue. Each scale and spine of the creatures has been captured in exquisite detail. Atop the head of a dragon is the true treasure though, my wedding band.
One evening Isolde had placed her ring on a dragon's head and commented that it looked like creature now had a little crown of its own. It was a small jest, but since then, on the heads of the dragons is where our wedding bands have rested, despite having been gifted a jewelry box and several dishes for the express purpose of holding our rings.
I take my ring and put it on. At once, I feel more complete.
"I've gone through years of my life without this little thing, but now, scarcely a year after having it, I cannot imagine my life without it. A symbol of our perfect love and our vow to be together always."
A warmth fills my chest and, despite the fatigue that still clings to me, I feel my lips curl into a smile. I take a deep breath, trying to have that pleasant warmth flow through the rest of my body, and exhale slowly. Finally, I take my crown from its stand and go before the mirror once more.
With the utmost care, I place it on my head. The sun's rays, still making their unwanted way into the bedroom, fall upon the three points of the crown. The shine off the polished surface is bright like an ember's glow. Another minute of combing ensures that all my hair falls just as it should and a final check in the mirror proves that the crown is centered on my head.
"Nothing out of place."
A sigh of satisfaction leaves me as I step away from the mirror and turn towards the bed a final time. My gaze lingers on Isolde. Suddenly, my feet feel as though they are filled with lead. I do not want to turn from her, to leave this room, to have to have to begin the arduous task of appeasing the nobility without her at my side.
"Isolde. . . "
I have made up my mind. I won't wake her, but I will at least kiss her forehead before I go.
"It is only for a few hours."
Slowly, I kneel onto the bed and lean towards her. She looks so beautiful in the gentle morning light. Her breathing is steady, her expression tranquil, the blankets inviting, and my crown cold. I feel the last of my will slip away.
With a sigh, I kick off my boots, letting them hit the ground as they will, take the crow and place on the side table, and lie down next to her. I wrap my arm around her and hug her close.
"So warm,"
Isolde stirs in my arms. I can feel her muscles begin to stretch as she lets out a muffled sigh.
"Hhmm? Viego?"
"It's just me," I whisper in her ear, "go back to sleep, my love."
She nods and her body relaxes once more.
"What about the court?" I can hear her mumble through a yawn.
"They can wait," I respond as body mimics hers, "For a few more minutes, they can wait."
"For her, they can all wait."