Act 1 | Scenes

Scene 1 | My Beloved

"No!"  I bellow, my hands clutching the sallet so hard they turn red. Well, they were already red from the blood covering them. Lere's blood.

Tears are streaming down my face, wearing down a clean streak of a path while the rest of me is covered in sweat, grime and dry blood. 

My sword lies beside me, silent and unwavering as it has always been. It never said anything when I sharpened it, sliding a rough stone across its sleek body; when I threw it in frustration and it rolled on the ground, covered in grass and mud. 

It never shed a tear when I took lives with it in every war I fought. 

I wish I could be like that sword.

My father pushed me into this war. This kingdom is yours for the taking, he had said. It is my life's work. Treasure it, protect it, expand it. I will help you. 

But first, gain experience. Know what it is like to fight.

Curse him. I did not want this.

My sweet, sweet, Lere. He's trembling and shuddering and whimpering and sobbing on the ground, the pain taking over all his senses. He'll die soon; it is inevitable. But he shall have died by my hands.

After all, I swung the sword. I landed the blow. I plunged it into his heart.

I killed him. And I didn't know I was killing him, his face hidden underneath his visor.

I caress his pale features, his eyes hollow and devoid of sanity. And yet he is gripping the edges of my chainmail armor, trying to console me. His black hair sticks to his forehead and I push away the strands covering his forehead.

I can't do anything. 

Sobs threaten to wrack me, but I don't want him to know I'm crying. His eyes are squeezed shut and he can't see my tears.

The battle is raging, the clanging of clashing swords and thundering horse hooves overpowering the desperate cries of dying soldiers. A strong wind blows, and red sand settles on Lere's wound. His blood is caked on his armor plate, drying out in the air.

I hoist his limp body on my back and pick up my sword. Weaving through the clamor of fights, I leave the battlefield and enter the outskirts of the nearby forest. I gently lay him down on some moss and slowly remove his armor, piece by piece—the breast plate; the cuisses, the greaves and the sabatons from his legs; the couters from his elbows. The rest of the armor must have been damaged already for he had removed them. Large gashes covered his exposed arms. They were very deep, slicing into his muscles. I would know, because I inflicted them on him.

His body is bruised and tired. I lie down next to him after taking off my armor. The moss underneath is cool and soft. My fingers find their way to his, and I grasp them.

His hand is soft. I widen my eyes and stare into the sky directly above me, willing the salty tears to stop flowing. But how? How could I stop? 

I love him.

There is a rustling beside me, and I sit up immediately. Lere is smiling wide, his lips cracked and dry.

"I-I... lo-love–," he starts, and immediately I know he has already forgiven me for what I have done. He's too kind for his own good. I hush him.

"I know, Lere. I know. But why, that I don't know," I chuckle mirthlessly. "I murdered you."

"Sti-still," he coughs violently, brows furrowed. "...alive. Im-impatient... Helen," he manages. Hearing my name from his lips makes me feel joyful, even though it is for a short second.

"You're right." I sigh. He turns his head in my direction and slowly opens his eyes. They are brown and filled with warmth. They were the same when I first met him in the palace garden, and they are the same even now.

"Thank... thank you f-for... loving m-me," he chokes out, his breathing labored. And I sit there helpless, watching his life ebb away. 

He stops breathing a few minutes later.

I implode, screaming and crying and shouting soundlessly, clinging onto his lifeless body. The familiar rise and fall of his chest is gone, but the grin still remains. And when I am exhausted and my breath evades me, I croak out—with a smile on my face, because he would have wanted it that way—

"Thank you too, my beloved Lere."

Fin.

———

How was it? 

This one feels like the last chapter of a book in the tragedy genre, where Helen falls in Love with Lere in 'the palace garden'(wherever that is; semantics) without knowing he's from the enemy kingdom and is made to fight in the war by her father.

I was watching a Lego stop-motion rendition of the Battle of the Somme, and this came to mind. Idk how my brain works lol

Anyway, thank you for reading—and please vote if you liked it! 🧡

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