I admired her innocence. I had seen
too much, her bright eyes hadn’t seen enough. Only a few years separated us,
but I had been aged by my experiences. I had seen the moaning poverty on the
outskirts of the kingdom, the darkness of the palace’s dungeons, and fleeting
glances of uncertainty from the king. She looked upon everything- the kingdom,
the king, her sisters, me- with an encompassing serenity, almost fooling one
into thinking that she had seen and known everything. I could only hope to
catch her eye every once in a while; her glance sent me soaring. I would’ve
given anything to preserve those eyes of innocence, to share a moment with
them. Alas, I was only a meager servant, and I had nothing of worth to offer.
In my
head, we were star-crossed lovers. I imagined that she knew of my infatuation
with her and suffered in spite of herself with wishes to reciprocate. I had
myself convinced that status was the only thing keeping us apart. She was a
princess; I was no prince. I imagined her cursing the division between us,
struggling to suppress her doomed love, gentle tears falling despite determined
resistance. This was the only rational explanation I could attribute to her
behavior; she never spoke to me, often ignored me, and she called me to trivial
tasks. The day I pledged loyalty to the king, I had placed myself permanently inferior
to her, at the whim of her every beckon and call. It was a bittersweet
position.
I didn’t
expect my longing to come to an end so suddenly. The king had become
increasingly arrogant. I didn’t understand. It had all happened so fast. I
couldn’t distinguish the cause and effect. I was interrupted. He called me in.
I saw his anger. It flashed behind his eyes. He ordered me to take her into the
depths of the forest and kill her. I had pledged loyalty to the king. I grabbed
her by the wrist. We stumbled across the thick roots and branches. The knife in
my left hand was heavy. I stopped. I looked at her. Her eyes made me sink below
my feet.
I let
the knife slip from my hand, and I offered her everything I had. Like me, she
had nothing now. I told her that I could take her far, far away from here. She was
looking at me. I thought she could see me.
“You can finally be with the man
you love,” I said.
“The man I love is my father,” she
said.
I looked at the knife. She was stupid. She was wasting her love. I imagined ending it all. How uplifting it
would be to stop chasing her and to stop choosing unfulfilled desire. I would
feel so light after it was over. I imagined the brightness leaving her eyes.
I couldn’t. She hadn’t seen
anything yet. She didn’t know anything. I picked up the knife and flung her
into the darkness, the dirt.
