A seemingly endless flow of snow falls around me, covering the desolate garden in front of the

mansion. Adhering to a slow, monotonous rhythm, the snowflakes drop from the darkened sky

above, leaving me to feel as a stranger among the pure white, ruthlessly cold surroundings.

I take a sip from a cup of tea and unwillingly let out a small grimace. It’s bitter; very bitter. The

cold, December air makes me shiver, but I’m somewhat comforted by the hot tea. Warm and

cold; two simple states that tie me to this place. Two simple states that feel real in my otherwise

surreal world. Memories shift and turn inside my mind, untamed and free to do as they please.

Winter’s cold, reminding me I live and my own warmth, telling me I shouldn’t.

I see flakes of snow drop into my tea and melt as they touch its surface, losing their identity to

the bitter mass of brown fluid. “Death to those who oppose our family.” I replay my father’s harsh

words inside my mind. He was obsessed with the family, obsessed with us being in a place of

power as the king’s most trusted. Yes, that obsession ate at his mind; darkness made its way

into him and he slowly became twisted with madness. He was only himself near the king, where

he shined as the radiant star he believed himself to be; and the king believed him, just as many

others did. I believe not even he knew which one was his actual self, lost somewhere in his

madness, between obsession and mania.

A deathly silence envelops the mansion and its grounds, giving me my tranquility, my escape. I

take another sip of the bitter fluid, now having lost some of its warmth.

Unfortunately for my father, I wasn’t the eager son he wanted as I deemed both the family and

the king as worthless, dead and soulless political machines. This divergence turned to conflict,

conflict turned hatred and as this hatred consumed us both, nothing but the burnt down ashes of

emotion remained. I was alone and lost, my path decided for me and no chance of escape.

A curious thing happened then, as I entered, without realizing it, a state of self imposed exile. I

exiled myself from this world into other worlds, weaved by so many before me, weaved by those

who, like me, couldn’t accept the absurdity that you need to become in order to fit inside reality.

The library became like a second home to me, like the smallest portion of reality I needed, so

that I didn’t have to see all of it. Like the bitter taste of medicine.

I was there, in that library, and no matter how much I immersed myself somewhere else, I never

left completely and that truth was painfully obvious to me, unable to leave my mind. A small part

of my consciousness was always here, in this lonely reality, so I couldn’t help but notice. Maybe

1

not at first, maybe not even after a week, but at a certain point I realized that someone else was

there, isolating herself from reality, just like I was. I wasn’t sure of it, but what else could it have

been? What else could it have been but yet another, disappointed in reality as I was, exiling

herself into dreams given shape.

As this thought caught life inside my head, it grew and grew, even though I chose to ignore it.

The thought turned into a question and that question took over my mind. “Is she truly like me?” I

wanted to know, I wanted to hear her story, I wanted to tell her mine, but most of all I wanted her

to be the same. I hadn’t realized it at the moment, but I had paved the road for my return from

exile with that one question.

My reflection in the mirror betrayed my feelings, my facial expression was one of lost hope and

my eyes as those of a husk. Even though I had just awoken, the prominent dark rings under my

eyes revealed a lack of rest; I had not rested well during my sleep in quite some time. I closed

my eyes and sighed in expectation of my father’s morning ritual of reprimanding me for being

worthless.

As I exited the bathroom and returned to my room, John, the family manservant, greeted me

with what, at the time, I believed to be a forced smile. I couldn’t understand why someone would

be happy to see someone as worthless as I was, as my father kept reminding me, but in truth,

he was probably one of the very few who truly cared about me. At that time, however, I did not

believe or trust anyone in that house; in my mind, I was among enemies.

“Young master, good morning,” John said, bowing politely “I’ve readied your clothes on the bed

and brought breakfast. The tea is lukewarm, as you’ve requested.”

“Thank you John, you may leave. I’m sure you have other matters to attend to.”

“Indeed, master Aidan, however, I have a message from your father. He wishes to see you as

soon as possible. He is waiting for you in the living room.”

“That’s pompous, do I really need to go to the living room for him to remind me of how

disappointed he is and what a failure I am?”

“It… seemed important, I would not keep him waiting for long. You know how the master can be

when he grows impatient.”

2

Unfortunately, I knew all too well how my father could be and it frightened me. As much as I

pretended not to care, as much as I pretended he couldn’t get to me, as rebellious as I acted

and spoke, my father frightened me. Not because he’d ever harmed me, I can at least say he’s

never done that, but because he intimidated me. He made me fully aware of just how weak I

was in comparison to him, although, I assume, he never knew that. If he had cared enough to

notice, I assume things would have panned out differently.

As John left the room, I sat down and ate, then changed into my daytime clothes and left the

room, a vague idea of my father’s intentions forming inside my mind. It came as no surprise, I

had been expecting this, but it wasn’t any less frustrating.

“I do not like to be kept waiting, Aidan, you should know that.” My father said as I walked in.

“I did not keep you waiting any longer than necessary. If it is such an urgent matter, you should

have come and spoken to me in my room.”

“I have no business in your room.”

“I’m glad we can agree.”

My father narrowed his eyes and pointed at the chair in front of his.

“Sit down.”

I sat and watched him in silence as he prepared his speech, almost hearing his thoughts

arranging in his head.

“Seeing as how you’re still completely immature, I’ve postponed it for as long as I could, hoping

in vain that you’ll eventually grow up, but this cannot be postponed for much longer. You must

find an adequate woman to be your wife.”

I raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. In truth, I had known what he intended to talk about, but,

as always, I decided not to let it show, like every other emotion I kept inside me. I felt like the

man in front of me, who could not see beyond my poor acting, was not entitled to know how I

truly felt and what I truly knew.

“Forgive me for asking, father,” I said, emphasizing the final word “but by which characteristics

would one recognize an ‘adequate woman’?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not relying on you to recognize an adequate woman; I’ve made a list of

adequate candidates and will extend an invitation for a house party in two weeks. You may

choose the one you prefer.”

“Very considerate; what if I don’t like any of them?”

3

“Then I will choose one for you.” He said promptly.

I pause for a moment and glare at him.

“Is that all then?”

“Yes, you may resume wasting your time.”

I got up to leave, but as I got to the door he spoke again.

“Aidan,” he said “I would advise you not to sabotage this by acting worse than you usually do. It

won’t change anything, but it might get you on my bad side.”

“Am I not already on your bad side, father?”

“No, son, you’re on my good side right now.”

Those words, that he spoke back then, felt so full of poison that my chest tightened. I wondered

what would happen if I did get on my father’s bad side, but the fear of it kept me from doing

anything. I would find out what my father’s bad side would be like, unfortunately, but not quite

yet. The two weeks flew by as I tried my best to lose myself in reading, but my father’s words

from back then, as well as the girl that I believed shared my fate, refrained me from doing so. I

would steal glances at her, from time to time, trying to guess what kind of person she was,

reading the titles of the books she would read. I couldn’t tell if one could objectively say that she

was beautiful, but what I saw was a kindred spirit, one who could, perhaps, understand. I

wanted to know more about her, but in the end, all I did was to read the books she read, hoping

to understand.

In those two weeks a thought crept inside my mind, a thought that, even though the chances

were slim, if that girl were among the girls at the party and I could speak to her, maybe I’d

accept it. If it were her, perhaps the long, empty corridor that was the life I had no choice but

living, wouldn’t be so bad.

I wondered if fate would ease my burden with such a card, but as the night of the party rolled

around, along with the cold of November, I realized that fate was not my ally.

“I don’t expect you have any experience in talking to women,” my father said, examining my

outfit “I’d be quite surprised if you did, but act as you normally do and let’s hope they don’t find

your impertinent tongue too annoying.”

“Let’s just get this over with.”

4

“Before we leave, let me just remind you of something.”

As if I had forgotten.

“I’m giving you a choice and I advise you to make the best of it. You’re fairly good looking and

the girls were quite interested in you, so the only way you could make a mess out of this is

purposefully. Do not make me look like a fool in front of everyone; it won’t be something easily

forgiven.”

I stood, looking into his eyes as he warned me and felt nothing. Not fear, not rage, just the

realization that this man thought he was doing me a favor. The man I feared, the man I loathed

was actually being nice to me, was complimenting me, in his own way. I realized it then, that I

could never stand up to him. If the constant bullying and belittling was his way of showing

affection, I couldn’t fathom being his enemy. If before I was intimidated by him, it turned at that

moment into a cold terror.

My father turned to leave and I followed him, feeling more powerless than I ever had.

As I met the girls and spoke to them I noticed the girl from the library wasn’t among them, but I

could feel neither shocked nor saddened. I just mechanically spoke to them and listened as they

rambled on about trivialities, occasionally asking me about my likes and dislikes. I didn’t make

any particular effort, as was expected of me and by the end of the night I was almost tempted to

tell my father to pick one for me. There were beautiful girls among them, but I couldn’t say there

was anything particularly appealing about them. The girl in the library was still on my mind, but

she seemed farther than ever.

I sat down, looking for a moment’s rest to clear my thoughts and was enticed by an unopened

bottle of liquor. Drinking wasn’t exactly my vice, but at the moment, the prospect of getting

absolutely drunk and forgetting about everything was appealing, so I poured myself a glass and

downed it. My father, who was keeping a close eye on me, shot me a glare, as if to remind me

of what he had told me earlier, so I decided to leave getting drunk until after the party.

“Is it that bad?” one of the girls said, sitting next to me.

“Like being force fed pudding.”

“Well, pudding isn’t bad, it’s quite good actually.” She said, smiling.

“Yes, but when it’s forced down your throat…”

“I understand. To tell you the truth I was force fed some pudding too. I’m to be on my best

5

behavior and look pretty. It would seem you are, as my father put it, a good catch.”

“Don’t let him fool you.” I said, smiling slightly.

“Don’t worry, I came to make my own appraisal.”

“And?”

“I’m still appraising, but you seem kind, yet tired. Even though you’re young, your eyes look old

and burdened.” she said, then paused, realizing that I might had taken offense to it.

In truth, it was far from it. She had hit the mark and made me realize that the feeling I had every

morning when I woke up wasn’t because I had not slept well, but because I was exhausted. I felt

old. This woman had seen right through me in ten minutes of conversation better than my father

had in the entire time I’ve known him.

“O-oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m glad you said it.” I said and smiled. She looked perplexed, but after a moment of shock she

returned my smile.

“Does this not bother you?” I asked “Being called to a house party as a marriage candidate?”

“It does, I must admit it,” she said, looking away for a moment “I feel like a product being sold.”

“Then why are-“

“Why are you?” she cut me off.

“Because I’m too much of a coward to openly oppose my father.”

“Although I wouldn’t call it cowardice, I also do not wish to oppose my father. Still, I’ve accepted

for my own reasons also; do you not wish to be married?”

“It’s not that, it’s just…” I paused for a moment, looking at my feet “how could I have a family

when I can’t take care of myself?”

Her soft fingers brushed my cheek and I turned, looking into her eyes as she smiled kindly, a

smile like I hadn’t seen in a long time. She spoke in the gentlest voice.

“Marriage is not a burden Aidan, it is the sharing of burdens.”

I smiled and, for a moment, the weight on my heart had been lifted. She was right, if both our

fates had already been decided, why shouldn’t we share the burden?

“I didn’t get your name…” I said.

“You mean you don’t remember my name?” she asked, frowning.

“I didn’t remember any name tonight but I want to remember one.”

She smiled and shook her head.

“Victoria. My name is Victoria.”

6

Victoria. My father told me that he would organize two other house parties at two week intervals

and that he expected me to have my choice by mid December. In truth, I could have given him

my choice then, but I waited. I told myself it was because I wanted to postpone marriage as long

as I possibly could, but there was something more. A mere curiosity perhaps but I wanted to

know, before I would be bound in marriage, who that girl in the library truly was.

It was one last thing I could do, one final action as the person I was, before accepting the road

that had been set before me.

I was set on pursuing this curiosity, regardless of the outcome. This, if not my greatest, is among

my greatest sins, unknowing as it was. The day after the party I went to the library to look for

her; as my time was short I decided to simply speak to her. Now that I think about it that was the

first time I had shown an interest in something and acted decisively about it. I should have

realized it back then; I was changing.

The library was empty and even as I spent the entire afternoon reading, waiting for her to arrive,

nobody came in. I decided to ask the librarian about her, as he must have seen her coming

around; there weren’t many people visiting the public library.

“Excuse me, I would like to ask you something, if you wouldn’t mind.” I said politely and the

librarian turned from his book to look at me.

“You are Aidan, aren’t you? I’m very glad you have such a keen interest in reading. What can I

help you with?”

“Do you know that girl that comes here often to read? She has blonde hair and green eyes,

dresses plainly…”

“Claire,” he said, interrupting me “her name is Claire. I know her, of course, she is my daughter.

Is there something you want with her?” he asked, looking into my eyes over the pair of glasses

on his nose.

“I… simply wish to know her. For so long we’ve shared the reading room, never speaking a

word and now, before I am to be married, I want to speak to her at least once.”

As I spoke those words the librarian’s eyes widened and his hands started to shake.

7

“M-master Aidan, surely there is someone of noble blood who is w-worthy of you. C-claire is just

a s-simple girl and she’s b-been through so much already…”

My eyes widened in shock as I realized what he was saying. The man thought I was going to

rape his daughter… A burning rage enveloped me and before I could think I slammed my fist on

the desk, almost making the librarian fall from his chair.

“I am NOT my father!” I bellowed “I’m not like that disgusting, filthy excuse for a human being!”

Realizing what I was doing I took a deep breath and calmed myself down.

“Forgive me,” I continued “I swear upon everything I hold dear that I have no ill intentions.” I said

that, looking straight into his alarmed eyes and bowed. How many times must my father’s filth

stain me? How many times must I apologize for being his son?

“I-I’m sorry. You will probably find her here tomorrow, but it might be difficult to talk to her.”

I apologized again for my outburst and left, feeling disgusted. Even though I was still set on

speaking to Claire, now it felt more like a burden. Such a short conversation had such impact; I

wondered if perhaps I was too sensitive.

The next day I went to the library once again, wondering if I was right to engage in my curiosity.

I was intent on calling it a mere curiosity, but I think I knew it was more than that.

As I walked in I bowed slightly to the librarian and took a seat. I had already thought out a whole

conversation where I would explain my circumstances and ask about her life and why she

lingered in the library so much. I wanted her to be the same, but after meeting her father I

realized that the chances weren’t very high. It was, in fact, not unusual for the daughter of the

librarian to spend a lot of time reading. Still, I wanted to speak to her, I wanted to know.

After a short while she arrived, looking at her feet and sat down at a table not far, beginning to

read without delay. For a moment I looked at her, hoping I would catch her eyes and could start

a conversation like that, but she didn’t lift her eyes from the pages in front of her.

8

I decided to walk up to her directly.

“Good day miss,” I said “I’m sorry to bother you, but could I have a minute of your time?”

I asked her that, but she gave no visible reaction that she’d heard me. Was she so immersed in

the book after five minutes that she had closed off to everything else? It had happened to me,

but never that quickly.

“What are you reading?” I asked again.

Again, she showed no sign that she had heard me. I wondered if her father had instructed her

not to speak to me. I look over to the librarian, but as he saw me looking he turned his glance

away.

“Miss” I said and put my hand on her shoulder. She seemed surprised and looked at me puzzled

for a moment, then took a notebook from her handbag and started scribbling something on it.

After she finished, Claire turned the notebook around and lifted it in front of my eyes.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?”

I stared blankly for a moment as I remembered her father’s words.

“She’s been through so much already”, “it might be difficult talking to her”…

Claire was a deaf mute.

“I wanted to know what you were reading.” I said, still staring blankly at her. I didn’t know if she

could tell what I was saying, but as she raised the book in front of her face so that I could read

the title I realized she must have been able to read my lips.

I noticed the title and recalled that I had read it once.

“Is it good?” I asked smiling weakly, as she put the book back on the table.

She looked at me puzzled for a moment then started scribbling on her notebook again.

9

“You’ve read it, haven’t you?”

She lifted the notebook for me to see. I suppose I wasn’t the only one who noticed.

“Yes,” I said and smiled “you’ve caught me.”

“I’m quite perceptive.” she raised the notebook again.

“Indeed.” I said, sitting next to her “My name is Aidan and I’ve noticed you coming here as often

as I. It puzzled me because, while people might come and go, you’ve been the only one

constantly around. You’ve been my constant companion through my hard times and I took some

solace in knowing I would find you here. It was perhaps selfish of me to think that way, so I

couldn’t speak to you until now, however in a month at most I am to be wed and I will not be

returning here. I cannot say farewell to a person I never knew, so before our ways part, I want to

know you, I want to know your story and keep the memory with me on my path for as long as it

will take me.”

I tried to speak as slowly and clearly as possible so that she could read my lips and receive my

message, my confession. Claire had watched me attentively as not to miss any words and as I

finished my last sentence she smiled and looked away for a few moments, taking slow, deep

breaths. When she looked back to me her expression seemed a bit sad, unlike her cheerful

demeanor from earlier.

“I understand. Shall we walk through the park?” the words on her notebook spelled out and I

simply nodded.

Claire picked up her notebook and fountain pen and we exited the library together, heading for

the park. After speaking my mind, telling her what I wanted to say, my mind went blank and I

couldn’t think of anything else. The words so simply formed before had gone and left me

confused, so I kept silent the whole way. I didn’t feel worthy of speaking to her. Claire who could

not hear nor speak was handling her problems so much better than I was; my problems seemed

to pale in comparison and I felt weaker for it.

10

We walked in silence through the park until she found a bench and sat on it. I paused for a

moment, unsure, but she patted the place next to her, inviting me to sit. As I sat next to her she

started writing, then raised the notebook before my eyes.

“I can speak, but I choose not to.”

I must have stared blankly at her for awhile because she looked like she was waiting for me to

say something. I couldn’t think. What could I say, but the obvious.

“Why?” I looked into Claire’s eyes and asked her that.

“I haven’t spoken ever since I was a child. People laughed when I spoke, so I stopped. I am

weird for not being able to hear and I know that, but I didn’t want the others to laugh at me.”

A kindred spirit. Thoughts ran through my mind as I read her notes.

“Since I couldn’t play with the other children, I stayed at home and eventually started reading

the books from my father’s collection.”

I couldn’t play with anyone either. They didn’t laugh to my face, but made fun of me behind my

back. My father was hated and by analogy, I was hated as well.

“I was alone,”

We both were.

“but I discovered so many beautiful worlds in exchange.”

And so we met in exile.

I take another sip of the tea and feel the now lukewarm, bitter fluid run down my throat. We had

spoken the whole day and Claire had told me her troubles, but I could not tell her mine. I could

11

not tell her that I had exiled myself because my father was mean to me; I could not tell her that I

understood her pain, because I couldn’t.

We met every day from then on and each day I learned more and more about her. After a few

days I brought my own notebook and pen. Perhaps I thought I could understand her better that

way, perhaps I wanted it to be easier on her, or perhaps I simply wanted to be closer to her, to

see a glimpse of her world. Whichever the case, it felt right and Claire never commented on it.

How could anyone had said that she cannot talk? In the two weeks that I had known her I

shared more honest thoughts than I had with my father for as long as I can remember. She

could not voice her thoughts, that much is true, but in her eyes, in her smile, in her facial

expressions I saw more honesty than I had ever seen before. If speaking to Victoria was simply

refreshing, speaking to Claire was blissful. To Claire I was not a member of an elite group, nor

was I a successor to the family name. To Claire I was Aidan, the boy she had seen in the library.

The more I spoke to her, the more I understood her pain and in turn, understood her strength.

The more I understood her strength, the more I saw how weak I was, but only by knowing how

weak you are can you know how strong you can be. In her strength I saw my own and gradually

the thought of directly opposing my father crept up inside my mind.

As November was coming to a close, Claire and I were having one of our silent walks in one of

the many parks that we had roamed since we had started to speak. It was colder outside, sign

that winter’s touch was nearing us, but we did not care for it; the parks were our escape, a place

for the exiled.

The park was relatively empty, save for a few who wouldn’t give up to winter’s advances,

ourselves included. Claire had started working with her father in the library and I was dreading

the next house party that seemed to be nearing with unusual haste. I hadn’t told Claire about

the parties where I would have to choose a partner for life and although she knew I was to be

wed, we never spoke of it. In truth, I was grateful for it because I wouldn’t have wanted our

tranquil moments to be disturbed by the harsh reality. We had met in exile and for as long as life

would let us, we would remain there, in a story, in a life that wasn’t ours to live.

12

I often found myself picturing us together, picturing us in a normal life, in a life where we had

met in simpler circumstances, where there would be no reason for us not to be together. I

stopped, because that was not the case, I stopped because then I saw myself married to

someone, taking on the responsibilities of the family and Claire, married to someone else, living

a, perhaps, happy life. Would we be strangers if we met after a few years? Would it be nothing

more than a story we had read together?

I felt Claire’s hand on my shoulder and realized I had stopped walking at some time, immersed

in my own thoughts. She raised her notebook in front of my eyes, looking worried.

“What’s wrong?”

I took my own notebook out and wrote, as if trying not to lose count of my thoughts.

“I wish our time together would last forever, but I know it won’t and I’m afraid of losing you, the

only one in my life who I wouldn’t want to lose.”

Claire looked at the ground for a while, as rain started to fall on our shoulders. I had an umbrella

with me, but I couldn’t move. Not until Claire gave me her answer. What would it be, I wondered,

as rain dripped down my face and hair. Would she tell me that she will never forget me and that

she hopes I would never forget her as well? It would be a fitting end to an unspoken, autumn

love.

I couldn’t tell, as Claire raised her eyes, if flowing down her cheeks were drops of rain or tears,

but as her lips pressed against mine, before I even had a chance to be surprised, I felt her lips

wet with the saltiness of her tears.

That was her answer. Under the cold November rain, a fitting, unspoken vow between us: that

neither would give up the other, regardless of what is to come. I couldn’t say how much time had

passed, but we kept each other warm, unwilling to let go, afraid that if we would let go, we would

have to part. As we held each other and kissed, autumn cried for us.

After we had parted that day I went home in a daze, brimming with euphoria, like everything up

13

until then had been erased, like all the troubles had simply dissipated. My father, who had not

seen me like that in a very long time, was quite a bit surprised. I can’t say for sure, but I think he

knew what had happened.

I couldn’t think of anything else. My first love, my first kiss. That moment was deeply embedded

inside my mind and it refused to leave just as much as I refused to let it. I would remember it

day and night; my sweet Claire, to whom no noble could compare.

Thoughts of rebellion were brewing inside my mind. My father had asked the reason for my

happiness, but I wasn’t afraid of him anymore. With Claire’s visage in my mind his intimidating

attitude seemed ridiculous, much as my prior fear of him seemed the same way. I hadn’t told

him about Claire and I yet, not because I was afraid of him, but because I had something else

planned.

My father wanted me to be strong, so strong I would be. I would make him accept my wedding

with Claire and there was nothing he could do to stand in my way.

I finish my tea and let the cup drop into the snow, looking at the dark sky as a seemingly

endless stream of snowflakes fall and cover the land.

The day before yesterday, the second house party had taken place. I wanted to tell everybody

to go home, since Claire was clearly the only one I’d marry, but I kept quiet, like always and

waited it out. Victoria was there again and we spoke, like last time. She was kind, no doubt

about it, but my mind was already made, Claire was the only one for me. Still, Victoria was a

dear friend and speaking to her was as refreshing as ever.

“Your father seems awfully focused on you, doesn’t he?” Victoria asked sipping a bit of wine.

“More so than usual. I think he’s afraid to let me out of his sight tonight for fear I might do

something to sabotage the party.” I said looking to the chandelier hanging above us like the

sword of Damocles.

“Would you?” she asked, a mischievous smile forming on her face.

14

“I admit I’m tempted to, but with him watching over like a hawk its prey I can’t really move an

inch out of place without him noticing.”

“He isn’t watching me though.” Victoria said, outright grinning.

“Oh, milady, but what are you suggesting?” I said, feigning surprise.

“Nothing too drastic, just enough to help these poor boring people have a little bit of fun.

Something like pouring brandy in the wine should do the trick.” she said giggling.

“I seem to have underestimated how interesting you are milady, forgive me. I shall not make the

same mistake again, but alas, the bottle of brandy is safely under my father’s nose and it would

be imprudent to make a move now.”

“I agree,” Victoria said smiling “may I suggest we take a breath of air instead? The wine has

clearly gone to my head if I’m plotting to sabotage a house party I’ve been invited to.”

“Of course, would the balcony on the next floor be alright? I would very much like to get away

from here and father will not comment on it if we find a secluded place together. I actually

believe he’s expecting me to.”

“Oh, my, but what are you suggesting? You should know I won’t be seduced so easily, tipsy as I

may be.” Victoria said, pretending to be upset. I started laughing happily; I hadn’t even thought

about that. Speaking to Victoria was most likely the only enjoyable thing that happened during

those house parties.

“You needn’t worry about it milady, I would never do something so ungentlemanly.” I said, still

amused “You can trust me.” I got up and lent her my hand for her to walk with me “Although I

may have half of his blood, I am nothing like my father.”

Victoria’s smile faded for a second as I spoke those words and looked deeply into my eyes, as if

trying to delve into my mind through them, but after a moment she regained her composure and

took my hand, regaining her smile.

15

We walked from the party at the bottom floor to the guest room on the second floor in silence.

Walking with someone in silence brought Claire back into my mind and I smiled to myself,

cherishing my secret memories. Claire’s smile, her handwriting, the feeling of her lips pressed

against mine; everything about her was wonderful and only I knew about it. I was the only one

who understood how wonderful she was.

I was taken out of my reverie as we exited the guest room onto the balcony. While I had been

smiling to myself, Victoria’s smile had waned over the time it took to get there. She seemed

troubled and after she spoke I understood why.

“Aidan, I’m very sorry I must ask, but your words from before trouble me. You said you are

nothing like your father. Then are the rumors true? About… what he did.” Victoria asked, her

troubled face bathed in the light of the full moon.

I leaned on the balustrade and looked to the stars, gathering my thoughts before answering. My

father was very popular with the aristocracy, yet utterly hated by the common folk. Hated and

feared; a stigma that he passed on to me. When I was a child the other children hated me

openly, something their parents had most likely infused them with, but as an adult people didn’t

even notice me. They looked away as if I was going to execute them for looking into my eyes.

My father was the root of that fear and loathing. Most of it happened before I was born, so my

information wasn’t first hand, but from what I understood he engaged in quite unethical acts.

Apparently in his youth he was quite fond of various women; more than they were of him, but

that didn’t stop him. I assume he was under the impression that being born a noble granted him

the privilege of taking whatever he wished, innocence included.

I’m not sure for how long he terrorized the women in the city, but eventually news of his deeds

had reached my, now deceased, grandfather’s ears. It was only when my grandfather

threatened to remove my father from the will that he stopped his deranged acts, but it was one

deranged act too late, because one of the last women that he raped had left him a present. A

baby that she could not care for; me. I can’t be sure of my father’s reasons for keeping me, I

can only speculate, but I think it worked well for him. He had an heir and no reason to be

faithful to only one woman, although I’m not quite sure he would have been, even if he had

married.

16

“I believe so,” I said, turning to Victoria “although his many friends in the nobility would tell you

they are all lies spread by his enemies, I think the rumors are true. My existence proves it.”

“Then it’s true? You’re…” she started to say, but stopped and looked away in silence.

“Again, I do not know for sure, but I think so. I’ve never met my mother, but if it’s true then I can

understand why she never came to see me. My father never told me her identity, but I’m not

sure he knows himself.”

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” she said, looking away.

“There’s no need to worry, I’ve come to terms with it. It wasn’t even a surprise, to be honest.”

“I’ve heard rumors of what he had done, but I didn’t think…” Victoria paused for a moment,

looking into the distance “the king’s most trusted man. Aidan,” she suddenly turned to face me

“has he stopped doing such acts?”

For a moment I gazed into her eyes confused. Victoria had just broken character, so to speak.

There was nothing of her usual playfulness, wit or charm. There was only a passion I couldn’t

pinpoint, a passion I couldn’t understand or connect with. Perhaps it was the shock or perhaps I

had just been dumber back then; whatever it was, I didn’t ask. I didn’t ask why she wanted to

know, I didn’t ask why she suspected my father was still engaging in his deplorable acts, I didn’t

ask the most important questions. Instead, I answered.

“Stopped?” I asked, looking away “I truly doubt it. I think he’s just gotten better at hiding what he

does. I don’t like thinking about it.”

After that Victoria regained her composure and apologized for asking too much, then we

returned to the party as it was ending. Father smiled and I still didn’t ask.

The day after, I had bought the ring and asked Claire to meet me in the park where we first

17

went, where we first started to talk. Perhaps the library would have been a more suiting and

warm place, but I didn’t want her father there. I’d had enough of meddling parents.

I stood, watching in silence from under my umbrella as the rain fell relentlessly around me. It

was a dark day, unbefitting such a happy moment, but I didn’t need a right moment; I had the

right person. I had neither slept nor ate since yesterday and my stomach ached, but I paid it no

mind as I was much too anxious. I’d arrived early and had stood there for an hour already,

patiently waiting in the rain for her to silently tell me her answer.

I saw her, finally, walking down the now familiar path of the park towards me. From under her

umbrella, her eyes sparkling and with a beautiful smile, Claire seemed like an angel to me.

I had decided that my father would not stand in my way. His marriage alliance could rot for all I

cared. I had decided he would not keep Claire and I apart with his hypocrisy.

As she arrived she seemed to struggle with her umbrella, trying to take out her notebook, so I

closed mine and stepped closer to her, under her umbrella and held it for her. Claire flashed me

a smile in thanks and started writing.

“It’s raining today,” she showed me her notebook “shouldn’t we rather stay somewhere inside? If

you’d like I could brew some tea.”

I took her pen and wrote on her notebook, not wanting to struggle with writing and holding the

umbrella myself.

“I wanted to see you here, the place where we’ve spent so much time together. Forgive me for

asking this of you during such a weather, but I couldn’t wait any longer.”

Claire tilted her head in curiosity. Of course, after reading so much I couldn’t help myself from

saying it like I would write a story, but I thought it was fitting. Our very own story, recorded on

our notebooks, told by both of our hands.

“Claire, you are the light of my day, my only hope and my only ally. Your smile has saved me

more times than you know and in turn I would like to be the same to you. I would like to be your

knight, your companion, your hope. You are my first love, my only love and I will continue loving

18

you throughout eternity; if you would accept being my wife I will let nothing keep us apart, I will

be next to you now and forever. This is my vow to you. Will you marry me, Claire?”

I gave her the notebook and the umbrella to hold. As she was reading my vow, I lowered myself

on one knee and took out the ring. I felt the wet, cold grass under my knee but paid it no heed.

The ring was silver and not of very fancy design, but with a small emerald to suit her eyes. Her

eyes which were teary as she finished reading.

Claire kneeled in front of me and caressed my face with her free hand, smiling, while her tears

flowed. She gave me a light kiss on the lips then held me and whispered in my ear.

“I… love… you”

Clumsy words, with a voice frightened by pain, but a voice that only I have heard. More intimate

than anything else, her voice that she had kept hidden from all but me. No more than a whisper,

but deeper and more powerful than any shout.

Claire pressed her lips against mine once again, then smiled a bitter, pained smile and started

writing in her notebook again, wiping her eyes from time to time. I waited in the same position as

she wrote, feeling my stomach churning. Doubts and worries tried forcing their way into my

mind, but I kept them out with all the strength I could muster and waited. Waiting was easier;

thinking anything would have made the wait a torment, but I stood motionless, like frozen in

time, barring anything from entering my mind, until finally Claire stopped writing.

“Aidan, when we met you’ve told me you were to be wed and that you wanted to speak to me

before that, so that you could say goodbye. It was painful to think I would never see you again,

but I thought it would be even more painful to lose you without ever knowing you, my silent

companion.

The one person to whom my silence was not a burden, the one person who didn’t require that I

speak. We spent time together and you brought your own notebook. I can’t tell you how happy I

was when you did, I can’t tell you how happy I was to be accepted, but at the same time how

painful it was to think that I had to hold my feelings back because you were to be wed.

Whatever feelings I had for you I would take with me and keep them in my heart, along with our

19

memories together.

Then you told me you were afraid of losing me and I just couldn’t hold my feelings back

anymore, so I kissed you and again I thought I would take our time together, our kisses and our

love and keep it close to my heart forever, the memories of a fleeting love story.

And now, you ask me to marry you. I could have given up, I could have lived on and cherished

my memories with you from now and forever, but when you told me those things everything

collapsed. I cannot be without you; if I am to live a life without you in it I would rather take my

life.

Yes, I will marry you, I cannot imagine life in any other way.”

As I finished reading her confession my eyes were dripping. I held her close and her umbrella

dropped, leaving us kissing in the rain once again. That was, without a doubt, the happiest

moment of my life. Nothing could compare to the moment you decide to spend the rest of your

life with the one you love.

***

All that was left now was to declare my marriage to Claire, but I didn’t want to bring Claire with

me as a marriage candidate; I wanted to bring her with me as my wife. To make it clear to my

father that this was not up for debate and to show him that I could be strong, maybe even

stronger than he was.

So Claire and I wed in secret, away from prying eyes. It was no official marriage, but it was

enough, it was a marriage for us alone. In a world we could not fit into we found each other and

we were bound by more than an official marriage could offer.

We exchanged vows on paper and kissed under the stars. Our moments back then were some

of the most happy and peaceful that I would live through. Moments that had wiped away both

our sorrows; comfortable silence in a world drowning in noise.

Though not officially, Claire was my wife and I intended to introduce her as such. Claire had

20

granted me the strength to face my father, the final obstacle on my path to peace and

happiness. Thoughts of what we would do after tried to slip into my mind, but I forced them out;

the showdown with my father required all of my strength and attention. After I’d won, we would

have enough time to ponder our future together.

“Will you be alright?” Claire wrote on her notebook, looking worried. I held her hand and smiled.

“No need to worry, that bitter old man who has never loved anything in his life can’t stop us.”

I gave her my arm and we walked into the mansion. Claire had donned her best clothes for the

occasion, even though I told her it would be perfectly fine to wear her normal outfit. As we

walked in my father’s eyes shot right at us, glaring, but he didn’t speak, most likely assessing

the situation.

Thinking I shouldn’t give him time to react, I walked Claire to the table and helped her take a

seat, then spoke loud enough so that everybody could hear me.

“Honored guests, father,” I said, making a small, mocking bow in his direction, smiling “I would

like to introduce you to my future wife, Claire.”

The people at the table, including Victoria, were visibly surprised; my father on the other hand

had his eyes narrowed, struggling to hold back his anger. I had not only gone against his

wishes, but also shamed him in front of the aristocracy he held so dear. I held back a smile of

satisfaction at the thought of humiliating him and continued.

“I would like to invite everybody to our wedding and dearly hope you can make it. Thank you.”

I sat back down in a deep silence, holding Claire’s hand under the table to strengthen my

resolve. Victoria was the first to recover from shock and walked over to congratulate us. She

embraced me and whispered in my ear.

“You shouldn’t have done this, your father will never forgive you.”

“I could not care less.” I answered and we parted, Victoria returning to her seat, while the others

recovered from shock and came to congratulate us themselves.

21

My father had not said anything; I wasn’t sure if he was biding his time or he was simply too

shocked to muster a response. After everyone congratulated us he got up, raised his glass and

spoke.

“A toast is in order then,” he said and it was my turn to narrow my eyes “to my son and his pretty

future wife. Hoping they get through the challenges to come.”

I knew what that meant, but I didn’t care. From the start I knew he wouldn’t accept such a

marriage, but it was not his choice to make. I was prepared to take him on.

I raised my glass and drank, staring at him defiantly, while everybody else at the table did the

same. After that the excitement I had started died down and the party resumed. Victoria came to

speak to me again and I told her everything that had happened. She gave me another of her

comforting smiles and said she was happy for me, then kissed me on the cheek and embraced

Claire, who was obviously under a lot of stress. Before she returned to her seat, Victoria warned

me to take care as my father’s retort was sure to come sooner or later. I was well aware.

After Victoria left, I took Claire’s hand and kissed her on the cheek. She didn’t seem well, but I

assumed it was only the stressful night. When she squeezed my hand I was about to suggest

we retire for the night, but Claire seemed even worse than before. Then she squeezed my hand

again and her entire arm shook. Looking surprised for a moment, she took out her notebook and

wrote as fast as she could.

“Let’s leave, I’m feeling very sick.”

I glanced over to my father who was smirking, but took Claire’s hand and lead her to my room.

She was feeling increasingly sick and her spasms were getting worse. I knew my father must

have done something, but I had no idea what I could do.

I laid her on my bed and held her in my arms, crying. I could do nothing but hold her and cry,

wishing I could take away her pain, wishing I could feel that pain in her stead. Her body

convulsed and she suffered in silence; painful, agonizing moment after moment.

22

For forty minutes my sweet Claire convulsed in agonizing pain. After forty minutes her body

went limp and her breath and heartbeat faded away, like it had never existed in the first place.

For forty minutes I held my wife and cried, feeling her fade away from my arms, from my life.

After forty minutes I was nothing; broken.

I closed her eyes and left the room. My father was there, looking at me, smiling. I tried to walk

by him, but he caught me and slammed me against a wall, looking into my empty eyes. The

face of pure evil was staring at me, yet I felt nothing. I had died there, with Claire, in my room.

There was nothing residing in the husk that was my body.

“Learned our lesson then?” he asked, smirking.

I stared back into his eyes but didn’t reply. I couldn’t stay there, I had somewhere to be. It was

important, so I couldn’t be delayed. My father was not letting me go, so I shoved my fingers in

his eyes. I couldn’t let him delay me.

He let out a yelp of pain, but I was already walking up the stairs to the upper level of the

mansion. I heard steps behind me, so I thought he had come to delay me again. I turned to kill

him, but instead found a familiar worried face looking at me.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I recognized her as Victoria. I couldn’t let her delay me, so I

kept walking, reaching the upper floor of the mansion. I headed for the balcony while Victoria

said something. What was it, I wonder? It was of no matter. I had somewhere to be, I couldn’t let

her delay me.

“Wait, Aidan, where are you going?” I heard Victoria ask.

What a silly question, I was headed for the balcony, was I not?

The cold air felt good, like an old friend welcoming me into nothingness. I stared endeared over

the balustrade to the ground, smiling to its promise. I felt two arms wrapped around me. Was

Victoria trying to delay me again? Should I kill her? Or maybe she wanted to come along?

I pondered throwing her off the balcony for a moment, but decided against it. The pavement

23

didn’t call for her as it did for me. Or maybe it did and I couldn’t hear it? Was I delaying her

instead? What an odd thought.

“Aidan, please, don’t do it.” she said sobbing on my back.

Don’t do it? Don’t do what? Stop confusing me. You’re delaying me and I can’t be delayed.

I shoved her away and got up on the balustrade, looking down to the sweet promise of the

pavement below.

“Don’t let him win!” Victoria said from behind me and embraced my legs.

Let him win? He wins? Who wins? He wins.

He was smiling. I recalled his face, smiling. Was he smiling because he won?

His face, smiling.

A veil lifted off my eyes and a feeling of pure hatred followed. He’d win because he’d go

unpunished. Unpunished for his horrendous act. I looked at the pavement once again, then

lowered myself down onto the balcony. Victoria released me for a moment, then embraced me,

crying on my shoulder. I held her tightly and whispered in her ear softly.

“He’s going to die in the most painful way possible.”

I felt her nod on my shoulder and we held each other, both of us crying. I couldn’t tell how long it

was until I managed to walk again, but I went back into my room. My bride’s still body waited for

me. My eyes overflowed with tears, but I paid it no heed and took her in my arms. I walked out

of the mansion with her in my arms, broken.

There was nothing left in me, but Victoria had both saved me and doomed my father. I vowed as

I left that he would suffer like she had suffered and I would destroy everything he held dear

before taking his life. If I was correct, the key to everything was Victoria.

I’ve grown up father, like you always wanted. Let us see how you handle it.

24

I sigh and glance up to the sky. The snow keeps falling.

I think even then I underestimated Victoria’s role in my life, in all of our lives. I had not yet

understood, even though my speculation was correct. Maybe if I had understood sooner. Maybe

if I had asked the right questions at the right time. Maybe.

I shake the snow off my hair and delve deeper into my memories, the closest place in my

memories to the present, today’s events.

The mansion had been covered in white since the night before. It felt like an omen, cold and

silent. I liked silence, but having it all to myself was painful in a way I couldn’t describe.

Everything reminded me of her, but in vain, our lives had parted that fateful night. I could do

nothing for her and even though I intended to make my father suffer for what he had done to her

I knew it was not for her. No amount of effort could bring her back, but at the very least it would

end the chapter. There was no other way.

I took in a deep breath of cold air and gripped the gun in my jacket tightly. Procuring it without

my father finding out was difficult, but I had managed to leave a series of false trails. I had not

known before, but my father had me watched at all times. He knew about my relationship with

Claire and had planned to poison her if I tried anything. I would not underestimate him again.

Victoria put her delicate hand on my shoulder and smiled, letting me know she was there. My

only ally. I held her in my arms, then offered my arm and we walked towards the mansion for the

final confrontation, aware that only pain awaited us both.

As we walked inside the lobby I motioned for Victoria to go up the stairs while I headed to my

father’s study. I glanced over my surroundings but was unable to recall anything I’d miss about

the mansion. There had been no happiness there for me. As I walked inside my father smirked

from his chair.

“I’ve been expecting you my son.”

“I know,” I said and smiled “how are your eyes?”

25

My father’s grin evaporated at my calm demeanor. He narrowed his eyes, but remained

otherwise motionless. I was ready to shoot him at any given moment, but I bided my time. I had

too much of it now and afforded to play for a while.

“They were sore for a few days, but I’ve recovered enough to see you in a better light.”

“Merely a matter of perspective.”

“Is it? I see before me a boy finally grown into a man. You’ve come for revenge have you not?”

“Revenge? That’s so distasteful, but I assume from a certain perspective you are correct. I do

intend to end you.”

“Do you now,” he said, letting out a contemptuous laughter “I would think you’d come for

answers. Don’t you want to know why I poisoned your pretty would be wife?”

“She was my wife and I already know why you did it. You simply could not stand the idea of my

happiness.”

“A child’s answer.”

“But correct nonetheless. I am a living proof of your failure. All this time I’ve thought you were a

bitter old man who’s never loved in his life, but I was wrong, wasn’t I?”

“You’ve failed to have the only woman you truly loved and what could you do but let it out on the

one who reminded you of it with every breath.”

My father stood up from his chair shooting me a death glare. I’ve tightened the grip on the gun,

but left it concealed.

“What do you know about that? You think you know what pain is? You think you can understand

what I’ve been through? Living every day of my life knowing I could never be with her! That’s

pain! That is suffering! Not your whining over a deaf and dumb peasant girl!”

26

As he finished his sentence I pulled out my gun in a swift motion and pointed it at him, looking

into his eyes. He raised an eyebrow surprised.

“How did you get that?”

“Did you think I would poison you?” I said smirking “Did you think I would come to kill you armed

with just poison?”

“But, you bought…”

“I did. I knew you were having me watched so I gave you what you expected of me. A childish

attempt at revenge. Feeling like you’ve underestimated me yet? I hope not, I still have more to

show you.”

My father’s eyes narrowed, but he kept his tongue.

“I’ve vowed you will suffer, like she did, before I kill you. Let’s continue our conversation then.” I

said, smiling.

“The pain of never having the woman you love. That’s a lie though, isn’t it? You did have her, but

she chose her husband over you. Can’t say I blame her. Still, you did leave her a souvenir.”

“How do you know about that?” he asked in a barely audible whisper.

“Think about it,” I said “who else could have told me? Your prized, wonderful daughter and my

half-sister, Victoria.”

His eyes widened in shock.

“She chose me. I am the one she loves, not you. And so it happens once again. Not even your

beloved daughter chose you.”

He could not speak, he could do nothing but listen as I tore down his world around him. I

27

promised he would suffer and I intended to make good on that promise.

Victoria had told me everything. Even that she had intended to kill me herself. Up until now we

had all been pawns in her play, but now I was playing the game. For all of Victoria’s

determination to erase the shame off of her family she could not let her half brother kill himself,

even though it would have eased her burden.

It was obvious to all but my ignorant self, but my friend, my sister, Victoria was in actuality

Princess Victoria, heiress to the throne. Both my father and I represented a threat that needed

to be dealt with. Even so, I loved Victoria. My only ally.

I heard footsteps behind me, but kept my eyes on my father who seemed ready to kill me on the

spot. I heard Victoria and John, the manservant, enter the room behind me.

“John? What are you doing here? I told you to remain in your quarters.”

“Unfortunately you’re not the one he takes his orders from anymore.” I said smirking. “He was

here to keep a close eye on you, you see, should you ever decide you’d rather disclose the little

indiscretion you’ve had with the queen.”

“Master Aidan…”

“Just Aidan now, John. And no, I won’t stop, I’ll see him stripped of all his allies. I’ll watch him as

he realizes the woman he loved never trusted him, I’ll watch him as he realizes the daughter he

loved never loved him and I’ll watch him die knowing it.”

“I told you I’ll make you suffer, have I not? This is merely the beginning.”

Victoria came at my side and rested her head on my shoulder. My father remained

expressionless, but I knew. I could see him die inside.

“So what will you do now Aidan. You’ve come this far, but can you pull the trigger? You’re no

murderer.”

I smiled and pulled the trigger. A loud noise resounded in the mansion and my father fell down,

28

blood staining his shirt.

“I will be soon enough.” I said throwing the gun to the side.

“That not… where the heart is… you imbecile.” he said, clutching his right side.

“Did you think you warranted and easy death?” I said and laughed. “No, you’re going to suffer,

just like I said you will.”

I pulled a small hammer from the back and walked slowly towards him, smiling. His eyes

widened, knowing what I intended.

“Victoria, could you wait outside please? I wouldn’t want you to see this.”

She nodded and left with John following her.

With two sharp blows I smashed both of my father’s kneecaps with the hammer. He screamed

and tried to fight, but it was useless, he’d been severely incapacitated.

“How is it, father, to have your whole world crumble before you? How is it to know you’ll die a

failure? A monster who tormented his son for his own failures?

“She was everything to me and you took her away. The only one in this sick story who was truly

kind and innocent. The only one who didn’t deserve to die. You killed us both that night. Are you

proud of me father? Have I become what you wanted me to be? Is this monster you see now

what you were expecting from me? Whatever I may be is a reflection of you.”

I looked at the pitiful mess in front of me and felt nothing. It was as it should be and it could be

no other way. Both of our lives were just a series of mistakes and pain. The only one guilty in

this is me. I brought Claire into this world and she suffered for it. She didn’t belong in a world of

monsters, in a world I was now a part of.

29

And the snow keeps falling, oblivious to the horrors that happened but half of an hour ago. He is

most likely dead by now. I can hear the fire starting to envelop the mansion and turn my

attention to the figure that has been standing behind me for a while now.

Her face lit up by just the fire engulfing the mansion, tears stream down her beautiful features.

She looks sad, even though her goal was accomplished. Why is that Victoria? You should smile

more, my beloved sister. It suits you well.

I can feel my hands shaking.

Even though I thought the game was mine, we had all been pawns in your play until the bitter

end. So don’t cry, you’ll make a strong queen.

Stopping me from killing myself so that I could kill my father. A truly magnificent move.

I pull a sealed letter out of my pocket and hand it to her. She takes it wordlessly, hesitates for a

moment, then closes the distance between us and places a soft kiss on my lips.

I smile as she leaves. A wordless goodbye.

As I lie back in the snow I wonder for a moment if Victoria had thought of me more than just her

half brother. In the end, it didn’t matter. As my body starts convulsing I know the poison in my

tea had taken effect and close my eyes, thinking only of Claire.

“In forty minutes we’ll be together again. Forever, like we vowed.”

Epilogue

Walking alone to the carriage, Victoria took one last look at the mansion, burning with a

cleansing fire. The letter her brother had left for her contained only one sentence.

“One last gift from you half brother.”

Tears were streaming down her face and the young princess let them flow unobstructed.

30

Nobody would know of the tragedy that befell this family. Even though it had been her intention

to remove the threat that her father represented, it pained her greatly to see Aidan die.

Still, Victoria knew. There was nothing in this world that would fill the space left when Claire

died.

She wondered for a moment when it was that she started to care so deeply for him.

“I hope eternity treats you well.”

And with that Victoria turned her back on the burning mansion, leaving behind the tragedy that

befell it. Keeping the memories close to her heart, she walked forward.

The End

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