Once Before

13 - Marry Me

There was a stillness in the air and darkness beyond the sphere of light that glowed from the candlelight within, where the field and trees and stream should've been. But where the darkness was most opaque, the stars burned brighter than I've ever seen them before, and perhaps ever will again.

It was tempting for me to run towards the dark, where maybe the weight of knowledge on my part would dissipate within the nothingness, but even I know that that would only be temporary.

The fact remains that there's nothing I can do about the truth, other than accept it - which I feel, as each day passed, I refused to do as well. 

I refuse to accept the fact that some day not far from now, I will wake up in a time where the love of my life would've been dead for two centuries, where not even his descendants might remember him - despite his depth of character and gentle soul which I have been privileged to have met. 

A loud sigh escaped my lips as I dug the palm of my hands onto my eyes. As the hour grew late, numbing the pain in whichever way I can became more tempting - a run towards the dark wood, a swim in the freezing cold ocean? 

"It was a very, very long night, wasn't it?" His voice called out from behind me, sounding very much like home. 

He leaned his shoulders against the tall doorway, his frock coat had long been taken off, and the sleeves of his white linen shirt were rolled up. Standing before me was no longer Lord Myerscough, the esteemed Earl of Ashford, but it was Arthur.

My Arthur. 

His posture - while still standing tall and proud - was relaxed, and his eyes gazed far away towards the grove of trees where my mind had been not a second ago. 

"Looks tempting, doesn't it?" I asked.

"People fear being lost in the woods, especially at night, but sometimes... Sometimes I find myself, I don't know, wanting to be lost? To stumble around and trip and fall, and get back up and continue - and having the freedom to do so..."

I didn't dare say anything in return, and how could I? 

Over the course of the few weeks we blissfully spent time together, I had gotten to know him so well that I felt I have known him for a very long time - which I then found out I really did, but this? 

It was only then that I realized that what he had said was something he probably have never said out loud, and not so easily as well. All these times I figured that he was one of the few people who just knew exactly where he belonged - a trait that was rare to come by and one I aspire to achieve someday - but perhaps I had been mistaken. 

Though I felt deeply for how he must feel - the burden of a title and responsibility he must carry - I couldn't help but feel touched that he chose to show me this side of him. 

Perhaps for some people, making love to their partner, or simply the gentle act of a touch and a kiss, the time spent together and the things shared between them was their form of intimacy.

But right here, right now, watching the love of my life share to me his deepest thoughts as his clothes were only half worn and his eyes were distant, and his guards were down as if he was finished with his share of the day's act, this was the most treasured form of intimacy I have ever encountered. 

The freedom of simply being each other - in all our glorious, worn down selves, plagued with our daily worries but nonetheless clinging on to that hope that tomorrow might be better - this was what I craved for all these times, what I'm finally getting a taste of, and what made letting go much, much harder than it already was.