In our previous fairy tale we read of the wounded pair...our story continues with the return of the King...
Softly, so gently, the voice she loved spoke through her ear straight to her heart. Or so it seemed, as hungry as she was for those loving echoes.
There were moments of bliss, explosions of tranquility that while a confusing dichotomy, felt like the most healing balm on torn skin. But those moments can never last. They are glimpses of perfection, never meant to be permanent because people simply aren't perfect...they both were the same wounded people they had always been...
...but in the King's eyes, his flaws were justified while hers were unforgivable. Somehow it never seemed that her efforts were enough, that he always had an answer that involved her taking all of the blame, no matter what the problem was that arose.
The weight of that burden stooped her shoulders, but she tried to carry it. Hiding, planning, always to try to give him what he wanted...always failing.
Until one day she fell.
She simply fell.
Unable to press onward, she let the burden roll from her back and lie there next to her in the mud where her tears mixed with the dirt beneath her.
He was once again off somewhere in the Kingdom, unavailable to the Lady he professed he would give his life for.
For one who claimed to be so in love, his release of her came so easily...her essence slid from his grasp with nary a trembling effort to hold on...
...and her heart crumbled to pieces on the breast of Mother Earth.
She awakened to suddenly realize she had drifted into an exhausted sleep. She had only limited strength left...she had to decide which elements of her life to carry with her on her journey onward: the heavy load still resting where it had fallen from her weary shoulders, or the pieces of her heart that might still have a chance to mend.
She thought a long time, for this Lady was deeply in love with her King...through the dark hours of night she considered her actions and the irreplaceable value of her own soul. Eventually the sun rose...
...and she gathered the pieces of her heart, carefully placed them in a soft flesh bag where they could gradually re-fuse. The process was painful, as torn tissue always hurts when it begins to heal...but the pieces were safely tucked in the flesh bag and soon became warm again.
She hoped her King's heart was warm.
She had no way to know.
His total absence was more deafening than the roar of the ocean.
She wondered if he realized the devastation such silence causes...
...she suspected he did not.
And she was sad...
And she walked on...
And the burden lay on the ground behind her as she turned her face to the light of the new morning...
...and she walked.
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