My Liege And I

The Woman And I

Oren’s heartbeat had already lost its stable rhythm by the time she stopped talking. He could listen to her all day. Surely, her voice was delicate and calming. It was the lulling sound of the trickling river one would enjoy hearing as they slept under the shade on a hot afternoon.

Oren observed the streaked dainty lines that illustrated heavy winds on top of the mountains.

“A wind comes up from the south, winging over the new sprouts,” he relayed his observations. “Bank to bank, the stream is wide, I could rinse and douse myself with the waters… just like the memories I carry of you. They water the sprouts of admiration I have long carried in my heart.”

She took a while to reply this time. He watched her silhouette lift a teacup to take a sip.

“Your observations are quite unique," she praised him. "Peering into the depths of the stream, one is reminded of the pure waters that carry a love declaration.”

He took a daring step toward the painting, desiring just to be as close to her as he could get.

“A love declaration that stands in my heart, even now,” he added to her words.

He held feelings for her. This, he once confessed.

“Years have changed, not afraid I have become a different person from what you remember?”

“I fear your second rejection more than anything.”

She chuckled to herself; a musical serenade for him.

“Even rejection cannot stand against a vicious man like you,” she playfully said.

He smirked, enjoying the ease they still shared, even after so many years.

“How do you do?” he finally got to the greetings.

“I do fine. Is all well?”

“I am content.” His wings flapped out and waved in the air. He was that giddy.

“You did tell me abour your love for painting. Assuming you painted this, I had no idea you had this skill.”

“Your compliments are kindness to me. Though painting has become a hobby to waste time through mundane days.”

He nodded, which was kind of useless as she probably did not have a good view of him from behind the painting.

“I was surprised to receive your letter of invitation to meet. Already, I subjected myself to hopelessness when it came to the prospect of seeing you ever again.”

He watched her lift what he assumed to be a fan to cool herself.

“Would I be wrong to think you changed your mind about my proposal?”

She giggled, which had him blush shyly in return.

“No, my words still stand. My invitation… I figured it would do no harm for friends to reconcile.”

She had not changed her mind then.

“What a shame.” It did not hurt to hear her second rejection as he had thought it would. Just to see her when he thought he would never, maybe just that was enough.

“Am I wrong to assume you still have not reconciled with your previous love?”

She was asking about Queen Elora. Oren was flattered that she remembered much about him.

He shrugged. “Some people do not change; she is one of them. Her footsteps have an imprint of mistakes, her decisions are laced with selfishness. Even now, everyone has to pay for her errors.”

This time, her silence came with awkwardness that he began to question his words. Maybe he should have worded himself differently.

“Don't say that," she reprimanded softly. "Even I make errors. I am like a pig who lives in the palace, after all. Some people are what they are because it is what they are. We should have tolerance and patience."

He frowned, baffled by her words.

"You must never say such things. You are the goddess in the palace. You always saw yourself and others in a good light. What changed to make you think in this manner?"

His memories of her were of joy, happiness and bliss. No day passed in which she never smiled. Radiance was her last name and courage was her first. The fact that she now thought little of herself, it was shocking.

She muttered something that sounded like, "It is hard to think otherwise when you hear such things everyday."

He was not sure if he heard her correctly, so he went on to rectify his words on Queen Elora to clear the air.

“She is a good leader, that I must mention, but I cannot forgive her wrongs against me.” He remembered the day he fell into her snare and ended up bedding her. “My feelings toward her are as a dormant volcano. They vanish and appear depending on the state of time.” That was the truth. “However, what I feel for you is my constant.”

She sighed.

Not wanting to talk about Queen Elora anymore, he went on to ask, “You are still serving at the palace? Should you not be discharged by now?”

Her head shook. “It is my destiny to die in the palace.”

Oren knew what that meant. She was a woman belonging to the previous emperor. Only those women could not leave the imprisonment of the palace.

It explained why she had the power to order a court lady to drop a letter on his lap as they served tea during the negotiations, earlier that day.

“It means you are well looked after. I can rest assured and not worry over you.”

He went on to ask her about what he could not figure out for the past year. “You wrote to me to understand the attributes of a Furian princess a while back. Did you by any chance know Elora was not truly Nevorian?”

“I was the first to find out Li Lian is the princess of Furia,” she did not hesitate to confess.

Oren frowned. “Why did you not report it when you found out?”

"Hmm," she hummed. “You have been a good friend. Li Lian is the princess of the nation you belong to and care for, dearly. Bonds of relationship hold importance to me more than anything else could in my life. This was my gift to you hoping it would heal my rejection of you.”

He really liked this woman. She was beyond magnificent.

“Unknowingly, you protected my daughter.” She was too good to him. “Thank you.”

He saw her turn and pick what looked to be a veiled straw hat. She lifted and rested it on her head.

Slowly, she rose, and he was blessed with the view of her immaculate body as she stepped from behind the painting. She wore a pale pink hanfu with a light grey robe over it. Her face was curtained with the veil of her matching pink straw hat.

The woman he admired the most stretched her hand to him and he gladly took it into his large palms. Her hands were soft and warm to the touch. He was overwhelmed with emotion that they were so close, yet so much stood between them.

Regretfully, he kissed the top of her hand and turned to leave. She was right. Some things were better left in the past.

~Author's Note~

If you don't know who the woman is, I will laugh at you! How dare you!

S.V