Always Anyways...

My chest ached as my cheeks were burning raw from my tears. I could not bear the weight of my shoulders, as they sagged forward and I curled around myself. The priest's words droned on at ever the same pitch, as my eyes could not be removed from Gannon's casket laying in front of the ornately decorated altar. The hundreds of candles flickered restlessly, as my hands clutched each other tighter. Perhaps I was willing him to sit up from that coffin, take tight hold of his sword that lay so still and once again be smiling and vibrant. Perhaps I willed myself to once again attempt to wake up from this horrible dream. Perhaps I willed for time to reverse and change the course that put these events in motion. But what my heart truly wished for was a honourable place where my grief would be welcomed freely and understood. The relationship between Gannon and I was twisted and complicated as was our history. From a faceless lord in my father's court when I was just a girl, to a brave guardian in the darkness who supported my brazen and dangerous actions, to a fugitive with honour, to a noble knight wounded in battle winning a rushed kiss on the surgeon's tables, to a long wished for dream as an alternative to the suffering life I had led, to a lost savior coming for me without fail during my darkest of hours. Somehow, Gannon had always been my symbol of hope, whether realized or unrealized, faceless or well known. And now my hope, was lying dead in a cold place, killed by a twisted warload who wanted my womb as well as my crown. I could not shake the horror. I could not forget the warmth of our dream together, as it was shattered by such utter coldness and cruelty. All the suffering at the hands of Alaric rushed at me, the suppressed memories lost in my grief over Gannon. And now they resurfaced and mingled with my pain. The memories of being taunted, grabbed and shoved, of being dirty, cold and in pain. The memories of seeing men slaughtered before me, in the most horrid and twisted of ways. The eyes of Beremud, knowing I had lied and gotten revenge, knowing he had been betrayed and there would be no mercy from me. The pain and agony that were held in his cries as I watched unflinching. The memories overcame me, and a cry escaped my lips as the Priest was reading endlessly in Latin. Eyes all turned toward me, and I covered my mouth quickly with my hand. My father looked over at me concerned, “Steel yourself...honour him with your strength.” While his words were to be of comfort, they felt like a slender knife pushing in between my ribs, piercing my chest and all that was inside. My chest ached deeper with the effort of maintaining myself before the court, servants and all in attendance. The cathedral was full, and Lord Gannon hailed a royal hero. Many had turn out to see such a royal spectacle. A spectacle indeed....

There was no comfort for me in this somber service, there was no reassurance of his peaceful rest when he died alone and in pain. I felt as if I was floating, drifting away endlessly from the shore as I desperately struggled to hold onto it. There was no mage, no healer and no friend who could heal this pain. I tried to breath as my chest seemed to tighten more each moment as the grief threatened to overtake me. I shifted forward in my seat, and felt the gentle cold of metal hit the delicate warm skin of my chest. My hand moved up, and wrapped around Gannon's medallion. Slowly my eyes shifted, daring to look out into the crowded church. There was one pair of eyes looking back at me, and they held softness and solace in them. Lord Kenrick gazed back at me and mirrored my posture, withdrawing his own medallion and curling his hand around it as if it magickally linked us in another realm. It was the kindest of gestures from such a distance apart. I bit my lip as tears poured down my face, unable to fight them anymore. Despite my effort to keep my tears silent, I heard my father shift and the servants behind him slipped through a hidden door. A few moments later, a servant appeared at my side, kneeling down in between our chairs, “My Lady Princess...here is some wine.” he whispered as quietly as possible. I shook my head at him and he quickly withdrew.

I was dazed by my tears, and when I came to realize what was around me again, my Father was standing from his chair. He reached out, taking my elbow and helping me to my feet as well. When he felt my heaviness, he tightened his hold of me and whispered again. “This is nearly over, hold your head high and show the pride in your kingdom. Leave the grief to his family, do not burden yourself with it.” I tried to follow my father's endless lessons on making me a better Princess for the kingdom, but his naivete and lack of understanding pushed the knife even deeper into my chest. He held me tight, and when he moved, I did as well. Soon I was standing before the casket, with a white rose in my hand. My father bowed his head for a moment before laying his rose over Gannon's sword and turning. I took one more step closer and was standing now at Gannon's side. I reached out, caressing the dark wood of his casket. It was smooth and wide, his family crest carved at the center with exacting detail. Over the top laid Gannon's battle sword. I ran my hand down the side, before reaching up and laying my hand on his sword. It was clean and shining, well polished and resharpened, so very unlike the last time I saw it when it was covered in the dried blood and inners of Alaric's men, covered in dirt and soot from the battle.

I was suddenly realizing that the church was so quiet, and I felt the heat of eyes watching my every move. It brought with it such shame, as if I was caught doing something I had no right to do. But I refused! I refused to be moved by them and their disapproving thoughts. I allowed myself this final time with Gannon, selfishly taking these precious last moments. I caressed his sword, my fingers running lightly along the ridges of his hilt. A memory surged to my thoughts, of Gannon smiling up at me, followed by his gentle chuckle. He had reached out and caressed my face, his fingers were rough as they trailed down my cheek. I had held them there a moment while smiling back at him. That is how I wished to remember him, smiling together in our private moments, before the world tore everything to shreds. My father lowered his voice, “My daughter, say your farewells,” and it edged on a warning of quickly coming disapproval. I leaned forward, lowering my face down to the top of his casket so that I could whisper to him one last time. In all my times after his death, I had only begged for him to return to me. But I had never actually said my goodbyes. There were words that needed to be spoken, that his soul needed to hear in the afterlife, words I needed him to hear while he rested in peace. “Gannon, my Lord...I beg that you forgive me. I beg that you forgive my weakness and fear. I beg that you forgive me for bringing a short end to your life.” Tears landed on the polished wood, speckling the surface with my sadness. “I pray that you know all that it meant to me, that you know the place you held and the greatest gift you gave to me.” My whispers cracked with emotion and tears fell faster. “I pray when we are reunited, you will forgive me and I will see you smile at me once again.” There was a soft hand that rested on the back of my shoulder. “Jane, he is not here anymore. And he forgives you, no one would ever believe he could not,” Kenrick whispered to me, suddenly at my side. I nodded to his words, caressing the wood one more time before laying my rose over his heart. I looked up at Kenrick, but he passed me quickly to the arms of my father, who ushered me away. I wanted only to grieve with him, who was gentle and understanding of my sadness. But he too drifted away, and behind him I saw eyes that pierced me even deeper. The eyes of Gannon's mother, eyes that held true deep hatred. Quickly I turned away and walked with my father's assistance down the aisle of the church.

Instead of taking me straight to the carriage, servants opened a side door and I was ushered inside of a small room alongside the sanctuary of the church. My Father sat me into a chair, “Collect yourself Jane, this is nearly over. I cannot see you getting sick again.” This time his voice carried more feeling of concern. “Leave....leave all of you!” I managed to gasp out as the room felt stuffed full of endless bodies. My father was quick to motion with his arm, and soon the room emptied, leaving only him and I. “Jane....Jane, collect yourself, I beg you!” he said more desperately this time. I heard the words, but they came from another place. For the only sound I could hear was my own cries as I finally released them. I sunk to my knees and curled up like a child, sobbing as hard as my body could stand. They were painful and rattled my head until thoughts were nothing more then broken pieces. My senses were stripped and when I felt hands on my shoulders again, I fought like a blinded animal. My father's voice mixed with the attempts of someone to restrain me without harming me further. It was a sharp smack that brought back awareness, and I gazed into the eyes in front of me. My father's hand quickly withdrew, “Calm yourself Jane!” he barked and my body went limp. He sighed deeply, “I am sorry I struck you. But I have seen this grief before Jane. It is deep and never ending and you must not lose yourself to it.” I gazed back at him, feeling lightheaded and weak. “I loved him Father. Did you know that he loved me? Do you even remember telling him no when he asked for my hand?” My father sighed deeply again, “Yes, I do...of course I do.” I shook my head at him, “Why did I not know? Why was I not told of this before?” My father tilted his head, “Jane, you were just a girl, and my only daughter. He was one of many Lords in court. You had never even spoken to him, and I wanted better for you. I wanted to see you a Queen. Is it wrong for a father to wish more for his children?” I choked out the words that only a very few people even knew, “He loved me....he always loved me.” My father sighed, “He loved the idea of you all those years ago. He loved your delicate face and your bright eyes. He loved to see you vibrant and laughing. But he did not love you, not then. I never did it to be cruel, he was one of many who came forward. His father always had high hopes for their position in our court.” I realized what my father was saying and knew he spoke to me honestly. Life was set in motion well before love was realized. “But he did love me now....despite it all. And I loved him.” My father searched my eyes, “Jane, I did not take him from you now. He died defending you. He died in service of his king. He died protecting the woman he loved. Despite the fact that there have been times I have disapproved of your actions, it does not change that your actions have always come from deep within your heart. It is hard to fault you for it. But life can twist in ways we do not expect and everyone must carry the consequences of their choice.” I cried as I listened to my father, and knew that every word he spoke was completely true. “Jane, grieve for the lost of such a love. Yes, grieve as you wish. But you must remember the reality of your situation. If Gannon has survived this battle, you would still have been parted. You would have watched him be taken from your arms, again and again. You would have been left with the bitterness of watching him live the life with another that you wished for yourself. Do not continue to waste your years this way. Daughter please, I implore you to heed my warnings. Live and do not be dragged under to all that come to pass. This is your time to live. You are strong enough, now seize it!” Slowly, I felt his strength through his fingers, as it started to seep into my skin. It matched Madge's words, that I should not squander Gannon's gift of love, and live the life he left for me. I nodded and felt my grieve slowly subside enough to manage myself. If only I could understand and harness the strength that was inside me. If I could rely on it to serve me at all times, not just when it was forced forward. This world was hard, not a living soul is saved from that fact. I must hold tight to my strength and continue. I nodded slowly to his words and he nodded back.

I saw Gannon laid to rest in his crypt and the large stone doors finally shut. I whispered his name one more time as if if were the doors that would part us permanently. I remember little else until I was returned to my rooms and the arms of Madge. She quickly undressed me, and ushered me to bed, stoking the fires high and covering me with warm blankets. There was little that was spoken between us that evening. When food was once again delivered, I turned my head away weakly. But with dinner, came something else. Madge came to my bedside, and I thought for sure she was bearing a plate. “Child, here....this came for you.” Slowly I turned toward her and saw a small box in her hand. I wrinkled my face and sat up, reaching out for it. Madge passed it to me curiously, and watched as I opened it. Inside the box, nestled in clean hay was a small figure. I reached in and carefully scooped it out. It was a dove, carved into smooth pale wood, that easily fit into the palm of my hand. It was simply done, yet the tiny face of the bird had striking detail that could only have come from the hand of a true artist. Around its neck, was a tiny red ribbon and a small scroll. With complete care, I pulled out the scroll and unraveled the delicate piece of paper. There were only two words written, “My dove.” It instantly shifted into place, and I knew the creatures giver.

I was a dove to only one....Taggart.