Noble Minds Overthrown

I love you.

At least, I did love you, once. It was a love made of green hills and butterflies, sunrises and sugar-spun dreams. It tasted sweet on my tongue, and the warmth of secret meetings made me glow. It was innocent and carefree, still growing into its legs.

I cannot imagine going back there. I don't think I want to, even if we could. For behind the syrupy sweetness, the foundation of everything court-bred, we discovered each other. My world has always been a stage—I am the dutiful daughter, caring sister, virtuous maiden, and gentle lady. But with you, I don't have a role to play. You have no expectations to weigh my wings down, only the hope that I can build up enough strength to fly. With you, I am so much more than I could ever be on my own.

I still love you now. But every word you throw at me is a double-edged blade, every roguish smile a stone poised to shatter my heart of glass. You have always been able to see straight through my emotions, even when I cannot. Your madness writes my soul on my forehead—everyone can see the words but me.

There is a method to your madness, though I have yet to fully comprehend it. You have confided in me the purpose behind this nonsense, and I think you are both brave and foolish. I am playing my part, just as you requested. But in truth, my genuine emotions are not so different from the exaggerations I speak. You could not have chosen words that would hurt me more, and each chance meeting only pushes the dagger further into my back. I am upset, perplexed, insulted, and, most of all, frightened. My mind knows your words are affected, but my traitor heart says one day you might mean them. The worst part of all of this is not about me. My deepest fear is that I'm losing you.

I am frightened for you, my love. You speak of intrigue, of poison, of sweet revenge, and all I can think is that you grow further from me each passing day. This talk of murder leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I cannot bear to see you so distressed. I wanted to hold you as you talked of death's eternal slumber, tell you that I would follow you to hell and back, but I do not have the strength to fight both my father and my king. We are both alone in our separate places, and that does not comfort so much as trouble me. I cannot sleep because I worry about what the king has planned for you. His explanations sound like the hissing of serpents.

I do believe you are the most nonsensical man I have ever encountered. You are both a ray of sunlight and a brooding raincloud, and how you accomplish that I cannot fathom. Have I ever told you that I love to watch you think? Your eyes shine brighter than the stars in the heavens, and I can almost hear your mind spinning as ideas burst into life. I miss that. Lately I have only been able to see anger burn holes through your thoughts and the poison of betrayal seep into your ears. You would do well to trust yourself more, for I am confident that you will know what to do when the time comes. You are a better man than you realize.

This will sound horribly wrong, but you are the only person who will understand. I feel as if a burden has been lifted from me now that my father is gone. I want you to know that I am not angry with you. He only cared for me when it was convenient, when I could help him get ahead in the king's favor. I miss him in a strange sort of way, but more overpowering is the fact that now I am truly alone. He is gone, you are gone, and my brother is gone as well. I see the calculations happening behind the king's eyes, and I know I am not safe. I am too close to you for that.

So, dearest prince, I have made plans of my own. The play's the thing, like you so often whispered to me, and my performance is rapidly outshining your bout of "madness". Oh, how you would laugh if you could see me now! This is the best fun I have had in such a long time.

I pray that this disguise will persuade the king to leave me be until you return, or perhaps get me away from this gilded prison altogether. I promise I won't go far. Once this mess is over, we can finally be together without insanity or murderers or damned ghosts to force their way between us. His spies are watching me now, as I sit in our willow tree weaving chains of forget-me-nots.

I want to see you so badly it hurts. You've stolen my heart—you snatched it the first time I met you—and I never want you to give it back. I miss the taste of you on my lips, the feeling of your spark-filled eyes resting on me, the way the corners of your mouth turn up when you laugh, the words of wisdom that pour from your mouth and hinder your common sense. I miss the feeling of your body next to mine, the way you stand with your hands clasped behind your back, the daisy crowns you made as we sat in the meadow, the way you take chivalry to the extreme. I've told you before that I'm selfish. I want you here with me.

Somewhere, buried under your grief, I hope you still harbor some love for me. I hope you're upset when you hear of my insanity, as upset as I became while witnessing yours. It seems to me that sorrow is love's constant companion, and if that's the way to draw you back to me, so be it. I want to hear you say you love me, and not merely in my memories. I want you to say it when you return triumphant.

I'm scared. I don't like the way the spies move as I watch them from the corner of my eye. They're coming closer and I have nothing, nothing but wilting flowers and scattered songs to defend myself with.

I will always love you, no matter what happens next. You are my friend, my prince, my equal, and my darling. My Hamlet.