Post by Arthur Kirkland on Jun 14, 2010 6:40:37 GMT -5
June 14, 2010
Dear
Today was a tiring day, which explains the lack of a proper first entry, but I'll expand more on that later.
I had a dream about Elizabeth.
Rather strange, isn't it? It's been a while since I've seen her last, but I still think about her - quite often, actually. Every time I see someone with the same shade of brilliant ruby hair, or the deep amber brown eyes that were seared into my memory, my mind wanders back to the day I first met her.
It's unfortunate, really, how I can't seem to relive that day, even in my dreams. Instead, I see other things - I have nightmares.
It was a clear, sunny day - ironic, right? It was as if the world was mocking me, reminding me over and over again that she used to always drag me to play one sport or another when the weather was so pleasant; reminding me that she wouldn't be able to do it now... or ever again.
Her hair, once a fiery shade of vermilion, was now a dull red. Her eyes, once the brightest tint of gold and chocolate, was now a dim brown. Her voice, once so lively and energetic, was now hoarse and quiet.
To think a single disease could do so much... it was just... frightening.
However, I still took a little comfort from the fact that, despite all these physical changes, deep inside, she was still Elizabeth. The disease might've touched her body, but it hadn't touched her heart. To me, she was still the proud lioness of England - and that would never, ever change. I-
"You're still here, Arthur?" she asked me, her voice so feeble, so weak, that every beat of my heart grew painful.
"Of course, Elizabeth," I responded, my voice trembling ever so slightly despite my attempts to keep it steady. "I promised to stay by your side forever, didn't I?"
"You silly git," she chuckled, stopping midway in her laugh to cough. "Even though I look like-"
"Don't be stupid," I quickly intervened, not willing to hear her finish that dreaded sentence. "What you look like doesn't matter. It never mattered..."
"Oh, Arthur," she whispered, reaching up to cup my cheek in her weak little hand, "What can I do... to make you hate me?"
I couldn't respond. I wouldn't. Because nothing in this world would ever make me hate her. She was Elizabeth; the proud lioness of England... the rose of Europe...
...my queen...
At this point, Arthur placed his pen down and buried his face in his hands, fighting hard to keep his tears at bay. He wouldn't cry, not because it was shameful, but because he knew that she was watching over him from wherever she was, and she wouldn't want to see him cry.
"Sorry, Elizabeth," he murmured to himself, echoing the words he used to say to her when she was still alive. "It's not as if I'm doing any of this on purpose, you know."
And with that, he closed his journal and gently placed it inside one of the desk's drawers, hoping that no one - Allie, especially, since she always grew upset whenever Elizabeth came up as a topic of conversation - would find it and read it.
[ Super emo entry. D: ]
