Six days had passed and there was no sign of Tyson since the Joust. My eyelids drew heavier by the hour, heart erratic; where was he? He would always come and see me, every day. He would come to tell me stories of the Kingdom, how blue the sky was that day, the shapes of the clouds, how repugnant the Queen's tresses looked that evening. He was always here by my bedside; but as my anchor drifts away from me, my petite pink rose that sits comfortably on my lilac bed stand starts to wilt.
As I frantically paced by my painted window, I felt the sudden gust of wind consume me. Within my chipped door frame, stood a tall stagnant figure with heavily, drawn shoulders. "Scar." I hear a familiar voice whisper.
As the figure emerges from the darkness, my eyes unite with my beautiful Tyson, his bold, beaming smile kindled bliss emotions. He had many smiles, around thirty-four I believe, but this one was my favourite. The way the smooth right corner of his upper lip tugged at his rosy cheeks, enveloping all who encountered his vision... This smile was my favourite as this smile, was my smile. "Tyson." Before another word could escape me, I ran and jumped into his embrace. His arms were tight around my frame, his hands running madly through my hair as his lips found my forehead.
"I'm so sorry Scarlett. Ever since the Joust, I've been told not to walk around much due to the injury. " His eyes travelled every inch of my face.
"My poor, sweet Tyson," I said kissing his hands, "I'm just glad you're here." I showered his cheeks in kisses. His arms released me as his soft, warm palms gently stroked my cheeks. "What's wrong my dear?"
"Nothing Scar." His gaze focused on my lips. "I never want my eyes to leave yours ever again; I never want to miss another smile that peaks across your crimson cheeks."
I took his hands in mine and kissed them. "Then never look away, my love." I pulled away from him, spinning artlessly in my nightgown as I frolicked towards the bed.
That glowing grin returned as he inaudibly closed my bedroom door. My smile grew brighter as Tyson swept my fragile body against his beating chest and placed me down on the lavender daubed sheets.
As he kneeled on my mattress, I wrapped my thighs around his waist... tugging his chestnut vest off his shoulders. "Scar, we shouldn't..." Tyson admitted.
"Shouldn't we?" I teased.
He trailed soft, gentle kisses down my collar bones, sliding my pale-slip off my now bare shoulders. "What if we get caught?" he whispered against my exposed navel.
"The King has been preoccupied with his horrid queen, and Sir Thomas More is enjoying the hunting season."
I distracted his anxious thoughts with a long passionate kiss; our lips moved in sync as I pulled his now unperturbed body down against mine.
We trundled beneath the blankets and my yearning for his touch grew fonder and fonder. I never quite liked my name, Scarlett. It derived from the old French language meaning red, entitling passion and seduction; though my nature knew neither of these things. Nonetheless, the way my name gently rolled off Tyson's tongue into my mouth made me grow more towards the lustful label.
"I love you Scar." He whispered against my thighs. "I envy the sun that sets alight your eyes each morning; I envy the glass of water that kisses your sleepy lips awake. I wish I could be the bravest man on the earth for you, I wish I could express my love for you each waking hour, as you captivate my dreams every night."
I need not respond as my kisses recited my love for Tyson. I wondered why Maria hadn't entered; maybe she did at one stage and then returned to her accompanying room next door. I could just imagine her smile that beamed happiness for me, and another of caution. She was my mother figure and only friend.
On this warm spring morning, I fell asleep in my Tyson's arms. I drifted into peace as his beating heart became my lullaby.