Serving Boy

A letter

So close, yet so far. What curse may this be, I ask. That even in my moments of victory, I still lose. That all the world and her being shall be against me; that even in my final moments I remain longing; that the sun rises and sets without a single touch on my skin, not even a kiss. 

May it be that my ambitions were too great?

How easier could it have been to know you? To meet your elegance and beauty, your glowing smile and warming kindness.

The orders were that every serving girl be executed, and the royal house be wiped of our filth and treachery. The King had just been murdered, poisoned by one of us. And from rage your mother ordered for our execution. Yet in that moment of grief and anger you trusted me still, you believed the words of a serving girl.

"I know who," were my exact words. Supposed to be my last were it be another knight. But they were my words of redemption. You held your blade to my neck. Whether you couldn't slay me out of love or curiosity, I was too scared to tell. You listened to me.

"The true traitor; the person who poisoned your father was Lord Mayher… your uncle." I still remember the shiver in my breath, not from the cold of your steel on my neck, but from fear that the one I love may slay me soon.

"And what proof have you?" You asked, you never imagined such a truth to be in the hands of such as myself.

"I saw…" And true were my shivering words, I saw it all. The same vile used against the king, I saw once in your uncle's room.

You trusted me, and rather than flee I stayed. For my protection I was made a boy, dressed as one, and as your serving boy - With hopes that we will someday reveal your uncle. I tired not of washing your clothes, scrubbing your boots and bathing you. Hoping to do so many more times until I someday find myself lying in your bed, watching the golden splits of sun rays touch your sweet skin as you hold me in your arms.

What more would I have asked for? A perfect dream becoming reality.

"If you are to be discovered, you will be executed." You worried.

"Worry not about me. I will help you." Little you knew that the love I possessed for you was greater than any fear. Then I said, "I will be your serving boy."

Your father had just been killed, murdered by his own brother. I could only imagine you to be next. What is life without you in it, be it as your woman or as a serving girl that steals a glimpse at you every meal you are served. You had yet to express your imaginations about me but I knew them to be affection, for I saw the way you regarded me. The way you smiled when I walked away; the other girls told me.

Perhaps it holds your reasons for trusting me.

All that is done now, at its end. You will no longer gift me flowers in the sickroom, nor will you longer grin at me while I scrub your shoes for pretense. Perhaps your father's death came as a blessing, a chance to forever flee and be as one. But we were only ever so destined to be close but never to be together, for there was a feeling you held that outweighed the love you had me, vengeance.

"We have, for many fortnights, yet to reveal your uncle's betrayal. And without you as heir, soon he will wed your mother and be King." I was certain you heard my words as you sat in the tub and I bathed you; you said nothing. Nervous, but I said, "We should flee and be together. I love you, Abrecan, and I know you feel the same as well."