Star-Crossed - Final Draft: 3/4/12

As silent as we could mange, we snuck out past the night guards who had always patrolled the castle walls. It is strange to think that they hadn’t recognized the princess had gone missing. I had always wondered what it would have been like outside of the inside I had spent my life committing to memory. You were afraid, no, terrified my father, the king, would discover you stealing me away into the night. I wasn’t, I guess in some strange way I had wanted us to be caught by one of the harsh, husky guards; I guess I liked the danger and the potential that my father could realize I’m more than an innocent wallflower destined for nothing more than waving to her subjects and saving our land from an enemy land through a kingdom-merging betrothal. I liked that you exposed me to the feeling that I actually was more than what the king had planned for me. So in the same sense I wanted to keep you around and I wanted to be caught, but that would’ve had taken you away from me. Because though I know that our motives were innocent and pure, my father would have thought you were kidnapping me for untold ulterior purposes like that of illicit acts. I know the truth though; we began our adventure with the intentions of going stargazing.
We met one evening when you had come to deliver a message to me from my mother, the queen. You found me amongst a pile of books within my tutor’s study, surrounded by lush tapestries sewn with the land’s finest threads. The draping fabrics depicted my family’s rich history, of which, I had grown largely unimpressed having been preached of it every day my tutor gave a history lesson; as if we’re of the only importance in all of Scotland’s history. Nevertheless, when you found me I was reading of the stars and attempting to view them through one of the clearer stained glass windows, obviously having been an amateur I hadn’t realized that it was next to impossible to isolate constellations through glass which does nothing but distort and hide what lies on the other side in an effort to allow a viewer to see the broken image.. You had sensed my inexperience because you too had found a love in astronomy, and pointed out that the stars are hard to see within the palace. You invited me to come with you one night to truly get a look at the night sky. I had agreed, and looking back I see I had made a naïve and dangerous decision in trusting a young man who was but a stranger to me, and it has all but broken my heart, you have all but broken my heart.
      I had agreed to come join you beneath a sea of stars visible only outside the wall of the only place I’ve ever seen. We held hands as you guided me to a small expanse of grass within an opening of the castle’s surrounding forestry. I felt as though we held hands like lovers, unknowingly gravitating into the other’s atmosphere only to brush fingers so slightly and shyly before lacing them together: our fingers forming some easily broken bond one would so desperately wish to keep strong.
That night as we watched the stars, I can recall looking to you and watching in shameless admiration as you became lost, gazing dreamily into the sky. I followed the line of your eyes and soaked in the beauty of the vast night sky that hung above Scotland; it was truly mesmerizing. I lowered myself to the ground to lie upon the grass and I remember you soon followed suit, lying next to me. You folded your arms beneath your head and let out a loud sigh. You always came here at night when there was a clear sky and the weather was warm, but you were always alone. You had never brought a girl, let alone the princess, there before. You felt the building desire bubble up inside of you like volcanic magma wishing to explode out in a fiery eruption as you listened to my quiet, feminine breathing and small movements as I adjusted myself from time to time on the grass next to you.
I remember that I had so desperately wished we were of the same life because I had longed to be you lover. You were too much of a gentleman to make the move, though your eyes were always on me when I wasn’t looking: drinking me in like the finest wine on the eve of Scotland’s greatest holiday. And I was too delicate an untouched flower to risk a break before the marriage to her betrothed even when I was tempted with the urge to be with you. I longed to kiss your perfect lips: so thin and so pink that they almost matched the tone of your skin because you were always naturally flushed.
      I can call to mind when I daringly brought my eyes to meet yours hoping you would see the yearning passion that had lain just behind the surface of my stare. I looked deep into your pupils but you were too chivalrous to act upon what you had seen, and felt, because I saw it there within your stare as well. I can bring to memory twirling my long, strawberry blonde locks around my finger and seductively biting my lower lip in a ploy to make you take the next step. I remember batting my thick lashes and finding no return gesture but the look in your eyes that sorrowfully said that we could not because you so desperately wished we could go further. You were terrified of my father and of the fallout that would happen as a result of the indiscretion that could have occurred that night.
      I wished we could have been lovers. I wished life would have allowed for us to have become an entangled mess beneath the constellations that hung above us. I wished we could kiss and run our fingers through each other’s hair. I wished we could flirtatiously grab at each other and take off our clothes and I wished it wouldn’t have been frowned upon to have such thoughts. I wished I were less than a princess and that you were more than a poor pageboy for the king all at the same time.
      At the height of your lust, you couldn’t take it anymore so you stood abruptly. You knew if we stayed any longer things would escalate into something neither of us could control, and something both of us would immediately regret, especially you, you would suffer the most of the consequences. When you stood, you turned yourself to face the direction of castle, toward the path which we came. You choked out the words that this was forbidden and that we must go back. You said that you had thought through the “what ifs” but we could not be: no matter what would happen it would end in heartbreak or disaster. So we walked slowly back to the castle and the silence was deafening. I’ve come to see that words are a human’s greatest weapon against the heart, they are comparable to a snake’s poison, but it is the absence of words that fill silence, and they are the words that sting the most. When we arrived at the door which led to my room, you stopped. You grabbed my hand, then like a butterfly lands, you sadly and delicately placed a soft kiss upon the top of my hand and sorrowfully spoke but three words; “I’m sorry milady.”