Juliet's Trail of Petals

Chapter 1: Part 3: Darkness

After an afternoon of basking in the love shared to me by the presence of my future queen, we would arise from where we danced moments ago and begin to prepare for the arrival of my family. As we did so I thought of how cupid has blessed me with such a love, and how losing it would cost me my mind and heart. I also thought of the Diakos, those visiting this evening, and their opinions regarding me and Harrieta's engagement, and whether or not they would be bitter. Although, I have come to the understanding that those who will come to meet my fiancé this evening do not have contempt for royals who wed commoners. However, I have yet to be informed of whether or not they are aware I will be wed to another woman. And still I cannot stop thinking of the way my father spoke of Harrieta's "people", could he mean simply just commoners? Or could there be something that I am somehow oblivious to? Would Harrieta hide such an important detail as her origins from me? And as I attempt to swim in my ocean of thought, Harrieta builds a boat of conversation that comes to save me from my mind.

"Al, do you think your family will approve of our engagement?" She asks with genuine worry in her voice "Because if they don't, I am afraid I won't be able to handle the thoughts that lie awake in my brain."

"Thoughts such as...?" I say with a furrow of my brow.

Harrieta had a tendency to have thoughts of drying herself out and simply crumbling and blowing away in the wind. She has always held the belief that her petals were tainted, that her thorns created scars on the hands of those who chose to come near. She seemed to think that her roots consumed all the nutrients in the soil that was shared with others, causing them to become lame in posture, and brown and crack. She was wrong, however, and I would remind her of that very thing every day. And today, I had to hope that she would believe that for herself, because her delicacy means her reliance on the approval of those who will be dining with us tonight.

"Such as not being able to live with the fact that I will be hated amongst rulers giving way to the creation of possible foes or the creation of the thought that you're a weak leader. Also, thoughts of disappearing into the shadows of the afterlife. I will feel too worthless to continue on living," she says as shame washes over her perfect features as she bows her head.

"Just because people think I am weak does not mean I can't show them how grand of a mistake that very thought is. We have plenty of allies, all of whom know to whom I am engaged, and how strong my future queen is and will continue to be. And those who make you feel worthless are those too bitter to admit that they themselves are only human. The mistakes you make do not make you, and they certainly do not determine your worth," I explain in a tone that brings her lips into a smile.

Soon after, a servant appears to inform us that we are being summoned to the dining hall for dinner with the Diakos. As we walk into the dining hall, we are introduced by name, and then pronounced as engaged, and as that announcement hits the cochleae of everyone in the room who is not already aware of our relationship, all that is broadcasted from the faces of my guests are blank stares. And as we sit down whispers and giggles like that of young girls speaking of the latest scandals arise in the direction of my three cousins. We both decide to ignore such buffoonery and continue on eating and speaking as adults. Except Harrieta is not speaking nor eating, and when the chef brings out her favorite dessert, she only stares at it. And after a few hours of my whispering in her ear to ask if she was alright with nothing but a delicate nod from her each time, I decide to speak.

"Atropos, is there a problem among you and your brothers?" I make it obvious that their giggles are a nuisance, though I know exactly what their issue is.

"Excuse us cousin," my cousin smirks with a smile that says he is better than thee "yes we do. We would like to know who your king would be if you will have a woman for a wife."

"I will be king Atropos, except you knew that. So may we stop acting as we are still of the age of five and find relevant points of contingency," we have now both put our silverware down and seem to be attempting to burn holes through the head of the other with a glare.

"Okay so can you tell me," Atropos' youngest brother, Skia begins " how you will rule with logic and reasoning if your wife does not know how to speak, and you are both women?"

Harrieta had not said a single word, which is where that pretentious little comment came into play in his brain which seems to match that of a koala's.

"Yes," his father adds "perhaps a son of Athena could fit better as king? You cannot seriously believe that two women who have not the intelligence of even one man, of whom it takes less effort, can run an entire kingdom of people and an army on their own."

"Besides, your 'wife' is much better suited to work in the fields with the filth of pigs than among royalty," Piro, the middle in age of the three imbeciles I must label as my cousins adds, ignorant to just how much irony lies in his comment "and she could not be bothered enough to choose one with proper beauty," he mumbles to his elder brother.

And as I stand to contest the absolute blasphemy circulating the room, creating the most uneducated Eco chamber in the cosmos, my rose has stood and taken large steps towards the wind, through which she rode into the gardens. And at that moment, as I rose, I was incapable of looking at the faces of such pigs, and so I continued to look at my plate as the room fell silent.

"You filthy bastards have no proper stance in your ignorant opinions, the knowledge you use as ground for such beliefs is made of muddy slopes. Harrieta is amongst the cleanest in this room, you all fail to look into the mirrors that you pay to be made with real gold. For your lavish tastes and royal status has gone into your heads and became the host of your bodies controlling your every move like demons. Before you come to the homes of others and declare it filthy, reflect on your egos, which seem to be as big as the Aegean Sea, making you the filthiest of creatures ever planted on this soil," I say with more venom in each word than a black widow has in a single bite.

I turn and as I start toward the door to exit the wasteland that this dining room has become, I hear someone once again say something. And I look back, and make sure that whoever is deciding to open their mouth once more catches my look of utter disgust.

"Excuse me, we are guests in your home, and you could not bother to apologize for your wife's crude behavior, but instead defend it? What kind of king will you be?" My uncle opened his fat greasy lips, still full of lamb from the plate in front of him.

"You are here for the introduction of the future rulers of this land, you imbecile. You dare set foot in my home and disrespect my fiancé and I as you have? You and your sons are all a disgrace to your kingdom. You fill your pockets with gold and jewels, and unless what you see is made of gold and jewels you condemn it. You think women are inferior because you cannot accept that no matter what you do, you will not find a wife, and you have passed that legacy onto your sons. You disgust me." I spat back because a king does not take disrespect from anyone, not even her own blood, and especially not at the expense of her wife.

"Now Alexandra, that's a bit harsh. Especially considering he's your uncle and also the ruler of another land?" my father speaks in his tone of "I'm right and you know it."

"Father! If something happens to Harrieta, if she is hurt, or worse," I begin, trying not to think of the possible outcomes, especially since my rose is completely alone "You should not be so stupid as to think you will ever reason with me again. If something happens to that woman, you will no longer be permitted to look in my direction."

Once I leave the room, my sole goal is to find my crumbling flower, knowing that petal by petal she is dismantling herself with her own vines. I know I will run out of time before she is completely dry of any will to continue her photosynthetic process. And with this thought I cry, and I hate myself for doing so, because it means that even I don't have the confidence to believe in a reality where the petals don't run out and get blown to the dark skies above.