Forsaken Blood [Weekly Updates]

Eighteen (II)

Sometimes dawn comes too soon. But with it it always brings hope for a new day. A brighter one. No matter how dark and devastating the previous night had been.

The tears had long dried up and she felt empty as she watched the first streaks of daybreak spread across the Eastern horizon.

She watched on as her maid came to help her dress. She hadn't even realised that she still wore the ball gown from the Victor's feast. She just sat there as everyone fussed around her.

Her cousin got up and left with promises to be back soon. But what were promises? Did they really mean anything?

Her insides felt hollow and her head throbbed in harmony with the beating of her heart. They were her only comfort. The only signs that reminded her that she hadn't joined her family.

Lord Edwin came and went. He informed her of the preparations though she could never recall what exactly he said. But one thing she did know.

It was to be at noon as per custom.

She watched the hours go by. She received no visitors though many courtiers came to offer condolences.

She couldn't bear to face them. Not yet.

Charlotte fingered the white lining of her dark heavy dress. She remembered what her father had told her of its symbolism.

The black represented loss. Everyone in the kingdom would wear dark clothes. From farmers to courtiers. But they would carry something white.

White was a symbol of hope. A symbol of solidarity with those that had lost the most. It was patience and goodness and a silent resignation to the fact that their time would come soon enough as well.

A custom almost a rite now after so long.

What would her father say if he saw her mourning him? He would laugh and tell her to get on with life. Death was a given. If it came early so be it. If it came late all the better. But he always said that he would want to walk to his grave. Not hobble like a grumpy old man.

A hero's death. That's what her father wanted. Was that what he got?

She looked up when she heard her name being called. Her eyes were misty with unshed tears and she had to blink them away to see clearly.

Hayden stood stoically by the door. He wore the dark uniform of the courtiers but the gold filigree was gone. Instead the inside of his coat was lined with white.

He held in his hand a single rose. Her eyes remain fixated on the flower for a long while.

She heaved a sign before speaking, "Is it time?"

Her voice sounded raspy but she willed it to remain strong. She rose from the sofa and faced Hayden. The large northerner nodded solemnly and held the rose out to her.