Love's Mercy

21 Apocalypse

an: aaron if youve reached here- here it is

Haunted... That must be what I am. Everywhere, I see lovers in one another's arms. They walk, their arms touch, their hands join, their kiss meets, and I see nothing any longer. It is theirs to share, not mine to curse.

How the memory does linger. Once, I had one to share this with.

I had never wanted someone closer to me than always you were. Your hair curled in my fingers, and your cheek pressed to mine as you whispered my name upon it. Was I ever the man to care for the sound of his own title? No... Not until it were yours to sigh.

My heart must have turned a blade inside of itself, for it was by no other's hand that sank it there. Why can't I hold you? A ghost is at the waltz, no- there are two. First, is you. You are here, and in my arms. Your hand is to my shoulder, the other is in mine.

The second is my own. The shadow of the man that once I was when we were together. I feel the hands of the long empty, deadened shadows grip me now, and pull me down. Like a tale I once knew- I cannot turn round to find you there, or forever you will be gone from me.

Sometimes, I think your hand has found mine, when all is dark and I have only the reminiscence of ourselves that tells me I am yet alive, but the world was not made for the pleasures of one man's hanged soul. I am beginning to forget what it were to have your rings between my fingers, or your body tangled to mine. I find that I would give anything I have to merely kiss you once more. Even now, I wonder.

I wonder.

I wonder if it were someone else.

If I were to love you, would I find with you that there was some epitome of my happiness in which I had delayed before? No, I have found that answer right in front of me. I could cry my love for you, I could be upon my knees, I could take your hand, and I could hold you at last. I could readily do all of these things. You could say the same, and we could make love, but ever would I know that there was one of whom lacked to me. Would you be mine? I've waited far too long to hope for your answer. Yes, you would fill my eyes with light, my heart and my body would be yours evermore.

However...

They have another to hold of their hands.

In my hand I hold what haunts me.

It could be replaced- it could be theirs, in the stead of your devotion.

I am a fool to hope for what lies missed. That is right, fool of a King, fool of a man.

You belong to another. I will always...

A sound awoke Alfred, and he sat forward in his bed. He found he yet wore the clothing of the day before, and had fallen asleep with the bed still made. The curtain of the window had been pulled- he knew not by whom- but dawn had begun to light the room. The sound, again, a shifting of fabrics. Alfred looked round.

"Giovanni?" he whispered across the room, towards the chairs before the hearth of which their head lied over one arm. They did not wake, but they stirred. Even in their slumber, they would stir. He stood, and approached them.

Giovanni laid upon their side about the small chair, their legs thrown across the arm opposite of their head; despite an obvious discomfort, they slept soundly. "Giovanni..." he tried, again.

"No, sir, I am not awake," they whispered, their eyes yet shut.

"Why are you in here? I thought Maria had taken you to her chamber to rest. What about..." Jareth, he would have said, but held to his presumptions.