Limerence

Chapter IV- A Weak Resolve

Notes: first night, Cath is a little mischievous, slight forgiveness, acceptance, tiredness, hugs, sleeping together, cliffhanger

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     There was one thing this dreaded castle had to offer: the luxurious accommodations.

     Of course, it was nothing short of expected from such a prosperous kingdom; but it seemed King Arthur found solace in his comfort and wellbeing— thus was the marbled architecture of the bathhouse. Sitting on a smooth trestle, you combed through your hair with countless luscious shampoos and conditioners. It was when the products emulsified the follicles did warm water cascade from the roots to the ends and wash away all residue in throngs of bubbly foam. Small rainbows caught the reflected light from the lamps and candles, creating refracted particles in the transparent foam that bubbled in the contours of your soft skin. You dragged a sponge up your forearms, the water squeezing from the cellulose in streams of warmth around the curves before dripping onto your lap. Another rainforest spray doused away the remaining soap. Water droplets pattered onto the floor in rhythmic drips when you curled your hands around your hair to push the remaining water out. One last rinse and your skin never felt more thoroughly purified, especially from the day commenced.

    Maybe it was the aromatic scents of patchouli and lavender consisting the air; or possibly, it was the opulent soaps settling onto the skin. Nonetheless, your peace and solace was attributed to the desolation of any sentient person. Only one heart— one breath resounded in this space: yours. You were alone. But... it didn't feel like it. Something was preoccupying the peace— someone was dwindling your focus on relaxation...

    Swiftly, you arose from your seat and dried off with a downy, pearlescent robe. It was when the moisture and warmth locked in did you leave and traverse down the hall to your quarters. No one was around; the hallways were but vacant of any sound or soul. Many thoughts concurred in your head; as you wandered down the hall (focused on not getting lost), reflections from the day popped into your head in small raindrops that quickly swelled into a vast ocean. But even if the troughs and crests of the waves crashed down in a combination of raging rapids and thunderous storms, you only focused on the lapping waves surging to the shore before fizzling out in the grainy sands. The water stilled into silence; your thoughts ceased into a droning dull. It was unsettling, to say the least. Why couldn't you think of anything? Why did all your thoughts swell before dispersing? In a way, relief flourished— you were inclined to believe something had loosened inside. There was a rope knotting your heart and mind until the last of any identity and sense of self was squeezed out. That was until other notions began to occupy the vacant space.

    Maybe it was the fact you were so insistent on the anger and frustration towards matters out of your hands that you failed to realize the shortcomings of any gratitude. It could be worse— much worse. At least the people of Camelot were respectful; at least there was a structure of humanity, and caring consideration on this special day. The forgetfulness that begot you didn't regard the clear wish of the kingdom: that they were glad to have you. This matrimony was a wondrous beginning for all of Camelot. And a selfish grudging mindset ignored that, choosing instead to look at where you stood meant to you— and only you.

     But it was still upsetting. Naturally. 

    You didn't want to be here; these weren't your people and this wasn't your home. Most crucially, you still didn't know how to feel about your betrothed "lover", Arthur. You wanted to hate him— you wanted to despise him until that was what conjured his very being. But, like the tempest of emotions dwindling out into quiet waves did you find no reasoning in disliking him as much as you wished. It was pitiful, or maybe you were just weak-willed. Or possibly, there was a small seedling of reluctance flourishing into acceptance. This was your home, these were your people.