Obsession and Betrayal: A Royal Love Triangle

One Way

As Ida lay in the dim light of her room, her thoughts swirled like the snowflakes outside, a weight of shame and regret. Fredrick's piercing gaze haunted her, his words echoing in her mind—each one a reminder of the way he tried to mold her into something she was not. He wanted her compliance, her obedience, and with every encounter, she felt herself slipping further away from herself. The way he loomed over her, always watching, had been suffocating, and she was tired.

Then there was the shadow of the stalker, a presence that lingered just out of sight, an insidious reminder that her autonomy was constantly at risk. The fear he instilled in her only deepened her sense of isolation, making her feel like a prisoner in her own life. She couldn't stop replaying the memories of how she was manhandled and how scared she was. She was sick of these men's desioures control, to dictate the terms of her existence. She thought the feeling of being choked by these emotions brought delight, the fuzziness of her thoughts and the forceful cutting off of one's air supply. But memories of sweet air filled her lungs causing her to feel her suffocating atmosphere to its full effect.

She had pushed away the one man who truly gave her air—Costello. The thought of him stirred a deep ache within her, a pang of realization that twisted her heart. Costello saw her as she was, with all her flaws and fears. He loved not just her beauty, but the essence of her person. In his presence, she felt a rare connection, one that brought a childish smile to her face. How could she have hurt him so directly when he was only there for support?

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she thought of the warmth in his eyes, the gentleness in his voice. She had taken his love for granted, driven by the chaos within her. Shame washed over her like a cold tide, she felt nothing but pain and wished for it all to end. She wanted everything to be over. Her thoughts were blinded as her mind told her things far from the truth.
The chill was not merely in the air; it permeated the very bones of those who ventured outside. Ida walked aimlessly, her thoughts a tangled mess, her heart heavy with despair. She barely noticed the snowflakes that kissed her cheeks or the biting wind that tugged at her clothes.

Costello watched from the window, as snowflakes fell his thoughts absent his brow furrowed with worry. His eyes lay on Idas pale skin and blowing back hair. Was she out in the snow alone? Not a cloak. No gloves. No boots to cover her feet?! He was shocked to see her but especially in the state. He wasted no time heading out onto the palace grounds.

"IDA!" he shouted, desperation lacing his tone. The air was cold as he ran towards her his breath clouding into the air, his sweat almost freezing.
She turned around hearing the distant noise, her body almost too weak to take another step, her eyes buried with hot tears. She wanted it to be Costello, she hoped it was his voice, his running figure. But before she could find out her body went numb as she lost consciousness falling into a bed of snow.
Panic surged through Costello as he sprinted kneeling beside her, his hands trembling as he lifted her cold form. He hurried her back to the palace, bursting through the doors of her room wrapping her all the blankets he could get his hands on.

Days turned into weeks as he tended to her, she slept for most of the time but if she was awake she was eating hearty meals Costello and cooked and administering the remedies the doctors prescribed. Each spoonful of soup was infused with love and concern; each dose of medicine was accompanied by soft words of encouragement. Yet, as he watched her in and out of consciousness, her fragile form resting on the bed, his heart ached not only for her recovery but for the love he craved in her eyes.

Ida's gaze vacant and distant, as if trapped in a world where Costello could not reach her. He longed for a smile, a flicker of recognition, but each time he dared hope, it was met with the hollow silence of her struggle. He began to wonder if the warmth he offered was enough to thaw the ice that encased her heart.

"Ida?" he said gently
"Why don't i help you bath and wash your hair.....It might make you feel better"

Costello carried her to her bathroom, the steam curling around him like a soft embrace as he prepared a warm bath for Ida. The room was filled with the soothing scent of jasmine, and other muscle relaxing herbs. He had spent weeks nurturing her back to health, but today felt different—more intimate, more fragile.

As he carefully lowered her into the warm water, he spoke gently, his voice a soothing.

"Ida," he murmured, watching her closely,
"I miss you. I miss your laughter, your light."

He hoped to coax some response from her, but nothing.
He gently washed her hair, his fingers working through the tangles with a tenderness that belied his growing worry.

"You're so strong, you know? Stronger than you give yourself credit for. I believe in you."

No response.

As he continued, he noticed a single tear roll down her cheek, glistening like a pearl against her pale skin. He jumped at her sign of emotion, sitting down next to her lifting her face up to look at her.

It stunned him.

Her eyes looked like they were filled with so much pain she was drowning. Her teeth clench and body trembling in anguish as she was holding back tears.

She jerked her head away,
"Ida?,   Ida   darling?" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
"I'm right here. I promise,"

At the amount of emotion she was holding back. It crushed him to think of the pain she was enduring, and he longed to take it all away.

"Why are you so sad, beautiful?" he said softly, leaning closer, "let it out, come here."

He reached for a dry towel scrooping her out of the water wrapping her up cradling her against his chest. He stroked her hair as she cried, crawling at his shirt in desperation.

Ida had let out a heart wrenching screams of sorrow her breath wavered as she was struggling to breathe and was shaking. Costello held her tighter to him as small tears ran down his eyes. After a while her breathing had slowed and she had tuckered herself out.

He stayed holding her on the bathroom floor, he was nervous to move and wake her, but also scared of something else. He hoped this was a step forward hoping that soon she would find her way back to him. In that moment, he understood that love was not just about words but about being there, even in silence.

He was scared of losing her more than he already had,

Later that evening, after drying her off, he laid her to bed. Costello sat by the fire, his head buried in his hands, his heart heavy with an unbearable weight. He felt his own spirit dimming, as if the cold that had seeped into Ida had begun to take hold of him too. The realization struck him like a bitter wind: perhaps he was not the one she needed, perhaps the love he so desperately wanted was but a dream.

He looked back at Ida peacefully sleeping in her bed. She looked so peaceful sleeping there, and all he could think of was how beautiful she always was no matter what. He walked over to her bed kneeling down.

Placing a kiss on her forehead, he spoke to her even though she couldn't hear him

"Goodbye, my sweet Ida,"
"I hope you find what you truly deserve."

Hoping that distance would grant her the peace she so desperately sought. As he packed his things that had slowly accumulated around her room to take care of her day and night. Tears blurred his vision, the ache in his chest threatening to consume him. He loved her fiercely, but love could not mend what was broken within her. He lingered at her bedside one last time, his fingers brushing against her pale cheek.
With that, he stepped out of her room, the door closing softly behind him, leaving behind the only warmth he had known—the love he had poured into caring for her.

Ida stirred in her sleep, a faint sense of loss creeping into her dreams. Unbeknownst to her, the man who had fought so hard to bring her back from the brink had now walked away, leaving her to confront the end of winter alone, the threads of her emotional sanity fraying even further in his absence.