#clairebloom

PRELUDE

❝Your beauty, that did haunt me in my sleep

To undertake the death of all the world,

So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom .❞

Richard III 

— ♛ —

𝑻he sword fell to the floor, and, with a pained lament, lady Anne sook refuge behind the stony pillars, leaning on them as if she could not find strength in her limbs to support the anguish that besieged her spirit. She was of fragile built and fragile heart, and even more fragile will, for the Duke of Glouceste knew that it would not take long for her to yield to his desires.

"Take up the sword again!" he spoke, gesturing towards the blade that rested on the floor, forgotten, with a single drop of blood gleaming in its edge, the only drop of life she had dared to take of his breast before fleeing. Not even the breeze was to be heard when he spoke again, this time, with a firmer tone "Or take up me."

With a slow, resigned motion, the lady Anne faced him, still resting her trembling frame against the pillar. There was woe in her eyes, the fear of surrendering to his wicked propositions, but despite that, she spoke. 

"Arise... Dissembler" she uttered in a feeble whisper. He stood up slowly, limping slightly as he came closer to her, "Though I wish thy death, I will not be thy executioner..."

"Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it!" he sentenced, grabbing the sword again. Lady Anne quickly reacted, saying in a frail voice: "I have already"

"That was in thy rage" the Duke of Gloucester pressed the edge of the sword against his throat, "Speak it again and, even with the word, thisThis hand, which for thy love did kill thy love, shall for thy love kill a far truer love. To both their deaths shalt thou be accessory!"

"I would I knew thy heart"

'Tis figured in my tongue" he said. 

"I fear me both are false..." she murmured.

"Then never was man true!" but before the cold steel could caress his throat, lady Anne grasped his sleeve with a trembling hand, stopping him.

"Well!" she cried, before taking a sudden step back, as if touching him was the same as touching a burning iron. Once again, the lady rested against the pillar, trying to keep a serene facade, "Put up your sword."

He obeyed, coming closer: "Say then my peace is made."

Her voice was barely a faint whisper when she said "That shalt thou know hereafter."

"But shall I live in hope?" he ventured, now so close his shoulder could press against hers.

"... All men, I hope, live so."

In a quick motion, he took off his ring and offered it to lady Anne, a gesture of maze in her visage.

"Do wear this ring" the duke said, and, at the sight of her meekness, he held her closely, " Look how it encompasseth thy finger; even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart. Wear both of them, for both of them... Are thine."

Not even the breeze could be heard, but he heard her sigh, as slight as a forgotten prayer. The Duke of Gloucester didn't need more to know that now lady Anne was his.

"Bid me farewell" he said, and, in the slowest of the paces, she turned to face him and, still in his grasp, she pressed her vulnerable lips against his gaunt cheek and then against his pallid mouth, in a kiss so tender and welcoming that his crooked and loveless body nearly shuddered, moved by a taste of affection he had been so callously denied since the cradle... A taste of affection in the caress she gave to his face, so blissful and fleeting, that, against his purposes, when she started to walk away, he, who still embraced her waist, brought her to his side without a word and kissed her in the only fashion he knew: Cruelly, harshly, so ridden by the hunger that he forgot who he was and what purpose he served.