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Dream That Didn't Come True

Short story By: PageTurner
Romance



*Won FIRST place in Jelica's Competition and in hungergames's Writing Contest! I'm so happy :D*

"Dreams do not always come true."

This is a story about how perfect happiness can turn into utter misery in a moment - how life can turn from easy to hard. How people can change, just by being with another person, and how love - even if just for one more time - always finds a way.

This story is about a spoiled and vain princess. A princess who cares most about presentation and beauty, until she discovers love.

An ordinary messenger, Flynn, manages to melt her icy heart and make it his with only silence. Their love is simple and true, and too perfect to last for long.

Nobody claimed that all fairytales do have a happy ending.


Submitted:Jan 10, 2011    Reads: 171    Comments: 21    Likes: 11   


A/N: So hey, people! Another entry for a competition, Jelica's this time :) It's a picture challenge. I hope the romance thing worked? First shot :)
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.alt
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'Goodnight!' I smiled one last time.
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Sighing, I closed the door of my quarters.
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A whole evening full of small talk and fake smiles had exhausted me, and the only thing I wanted was to drift to sleep, to ignorant and happy dreams without the existence of pain…
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If only life could be that easy.
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I let myself - and my ridiculously enormous dress - sink carefully onto the overdecorated couch that was placed next to the window. A few months ago, I might have thought that was a beautiful couch, a piece of art.
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But that had been before Flynn.
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I slowly walked down the stairs, careful not to rumple my dress. I hoped the sun wasn't shining to hard outside, because then my freckles would show.
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While leisurely pondering my daily worries of beauty, I was suddenly hit by a hard male body. I was thrown onto the dirty floor, hurting my elbow in the process.
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"Ow!" I cried out. I blinked my eyes rapidly, bewildered.
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I looked around me, and I found myself lying sprawled on the filthy ground, a young man on top of me.
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"What are you doing? Get off me!"
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He immediately got to his feet and stared down at me. "I'm terribly sorry, ma'am. I wasn't looking where I was going. It's entirely my fault." I watched his eyes widen when he took me in.
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"I know it is. Won't you help me get up?" I asked, highly irritated. My elbow still hurt.
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He had a sheepish expression on his face. "Of course, ma'am. I apologize." He stuck his right hand outtowards me. I looked at it for a moment, considering if I should take it or not. He waited. I decided to let him help me up, and gracefully put my hand into his.
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But instead of pulling me up with his hand, he bowed down to me. Then he put his other arm around my waist and drew me to him.
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I could smell his overwhelming scent, a male mix of spices and cinnamon. I could feel his body press against mine through my opulent dress and his clean uniform. Without the permission of my sane mind, I sniffed in his delicious smell, let it wash through my head.
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But then he set me down on the floor, on my high heel-wrapped feet, and let go off me.
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And all I could do was stare at his face. When lying confused on the floor, I hadn't taken him in properly, but now I did. His chestnut-brown hair that was grown out to the half of his neck, was a little disarrayed from our fall. His dark blue eyes were gazing at me, undoubtedly taking me in just like I was doing with him. I had to admit he was very handsome, with high cheekbones and strong features.
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What was I doing? I shook my head a few times, to clear it out. Maybe I had hit my head.
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"Thank you kindly, sir. I'll be on my way now. Good day." Still a little dazed, I started to walk to the royal garden, as it had been my original destination.
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A soft chuckle came from behind my back. I stiffened. Who did that man think he was, to laugh at me? Didn't he know who I was?
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I turned on my heels and saw him standing there with an amused look on his face.
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"Excuse me? Am I acting funny? I'm on my way to the garden, and the next moment I'm lying on the ground because some moron decided to knock me over! So I'm sorry if my behavior bothers you!" I had forgotten my irritation when he had picked me up, but now it was back. How did he dare to laugh at me? I was the princess, for God's sake! Too angry to stand still, I started walking again.
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He caught up with me. "As I said, I'm terribly sorry, ma'am. And I swear I wasn't laughing at you, I was just remembering something funny. It had nothing to do with you. I apologize."
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I didn't fully believe him, but I just kept walking and ignored him. But instead of going back to his business, as I had meant for him to do, he continued to follow me.
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When we arrived at the iron gate that was the entrance to the royal garden, I looked at him. He gazed back silently.
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When a part of my mind wanted to keep staring into his night-blue eyes, I blinked twice to keep myself from mesmerizing. Not wanting to be distracted by his appearance again, I focused my gaze on a point in the middle of his forehead - but even his forehead could be considered handsome.
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"I demand of you to leave me. I came here to get some fresh air," When he opened his mouth to say something, I added, "Alone."
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He frowned a little, but I could tell he understood. "Of course, ma'am. I wouldn't want to bother you." As if he hadn't already.
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But then his frown disappeared and a small smile spread on his full lips. "I would, however, be glad to accompany you another time. How does tomorrow sound? I'll see you at the bottom of the stairs this time tomorrow." I didn't even have time to contradict him before he turned around and walked back into the direction we had come from.
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"But-" I said, to no one in particular. And then I watched him go.
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I smiled sadly. Thinking about the first time we met - or about him at all - always made me smile, but also made an invisible knife stab my heart mercilessly.
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Such a child I had been! How spoiled and vain! Only remembering it made me blush of shame. What wouldn't he have thought of me? But it was too late for such thoughts now.
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No matter how much I wanted to make the flood of painful memories stop, I was powerless to the desire that had been suppressed for much too long a time now.
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And yet another one was dumped into my mind.
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"I didn't actually expect to see you here, ma'am," a voice behind me said, surprised.
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After a seemingly never-ending debate in my head, I had decided to come to the stairs. After all, I had told myself, I didn't necessarily have to come for him, did I? I was just making my way to the garden for my daily walk.
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Of course I was fooling myself, and I knew it too. I only didn't want to admit it.
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"Then why did you come?" I answered, partly to annoy him, partly because I was honestly curious.
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He walked to my side and flasheda mind-blowing smile in my direction. "A man can always dream, can't he?"
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He offered me his arm, his smile not leaving his lips.
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"Of course he can," I agreed while taking his offer, "But dreams do not always come true."
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That wiped his grin off his face, and he stayed silent for a while, as if thinking over my words. Then he said quietly, "Some do."
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Surprised by his tone, I turned my head to meet his eyes. Their lapis lazuli-blue depths were already staring at my face, intensely and even a little sad.
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Even though he had annoyed me and I had convinced myself I didn't really like him, I tried to cheer him up. "Indeed, some do." And I gave him a small smile.
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When he saw that, his eyes widened almost unnoticeable, and they filled with an emotion I couldn't describe. I was used to the awe and lust I saw when men watched me, but not to this. I knew I was beautiful, as I had heard it many times before. My mother told me almost daily, and my father on occasion. Many young men who came to balls and dinners of my family, the royal family, complimented me on my beauty. My maid gazed at me longingly when she thought I wasn't looking.
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But all those things were nothing - nothing - compared to what I was experiencing now.
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The way this young man was looking at me made me feel beautiful like none of the compliments I was given had done. But not only beautiful - it was like he admired my inside, too.
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I pushed that thought away. My inside? He barely knew me! Scratch that - he didn't know me at all! And I didn't even know his name!
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I averted my eyes from his face. We were now walking on the paths of the garden, and I examined the colorful flowers that spread a sweet scent. It was summer, and the heat made the smell heavier and even sweeter, like an overdose of honey.
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I cleared my throat. "It's a beautiful day, don't you think?" I stated, not looking at him.
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"Yes, indeed. A wonderful day." His voice was full of the emotion I had detected in his eyes. A mix of tenderness and… something else.
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We fell silent again, and I tried to name the missing ingredient of his feeling. But no ideas came to my mind.
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We continued the rest of our walk in silence, but because of the singing of the birds and the rustling of the wind, it wasn't as quiet as it would have been. At first it had been a little awkward and uncomfortable, but gradually my tense muscles began to relax. Then I just enjoyed the feel of the evening sun on my pale skin. A small voice in my head shouted that I should watch out for my freckles, but I shushed it. After one last remark that my mother wouldn't be happy with this, it shut up.
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When our walk ended, he brought me back to my room. I opened my mouth to say goodbye and faced him in the exact same moment he turned to me. Our chests were almost touching, and I was looking right at his collar bones. I lifted my head to meet his eyes, and noticed he was looking down already. I swallowed loudly.
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I closed my mouth, then opened it again, trying to think of something to say. I probably looked like a fish gasping for water, and that thought didn't help me to calm down.
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He had looked surprised and a little stunned too, but then he smiled and stepped back.
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Without saying a word, he took my hand in his and brought it to his lips, a proper goodbye to a lady of rank. His soft and feathery lips brushed the back of my hand a little longer than was generally accepted, but I didn't mind. I wanted to extend that moment to the rest of eternity.
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But then it was over, and he let go of my hand while straightening his back. One last breath-taking grin that displayed his amusement, and he was gone.
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Dazzled, I entered my room and closed the door.
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That had been a turning point in our relationship, I realized. Without speaking, he had entered my heart and my soul that day. He hadn't exactly changed me, he had just made me real.
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My old self, the one I had been before we met, might have found him simple or boring. My involuntary changing self thought he was interesting and fascinating.
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His bare presence had twisted my personality, and he couldn't have given me a better gift.
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Now my heart twisted in pain of desire for his bare presence. How easy my life could change!
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While a lonely salt teardrop escaped my eyes, I remembered the night that had followed.
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I was lying under my covers in my canopy bed, and I couldn't sleep. Buzzing thoughts about Mr. Anonymous kept me awake.
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Who was he? What was his name?
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I had seen the uniform he had been wearing yesterday - a messenger's. Disappointment flooded my mind, but not in the way that should be expected of me. He was a messenger? I should be disappointed over the fact that he was so low in rank and then let him go, but that was not the case. I felt sad because I could never be allowed to interact with someone like that.
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A few days ago, I might have thought that such a rule was good and protecting. Now it only seemed like an obstacle.
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Why did he want to walk with me? Why was he interested in me at all?
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Maybe it was his kind of an apology… But that couldn't be the only reason. Maybe I was just being vain - something, I suddenly realized, I was a lot - or I wishful thinking, but I had seen the look in his eyes when he stared at my face. That mysterious emotion…
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What had it been? Why did he feel that way?
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It was a good emotion, I was sure. Kindness, if not affection. But why? I hadn't been kind to him! I had only shown him my arrogant and cold side, except for the smile after I tried to cheer him up.
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Could he, behind my ice princess facade - ah, the irony - have seen my true self?
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Had he? Who was she, or I?
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That was the moment I came to the realization - one of the many of that night - that I had changed immutably. I searched into my mind and my heart, and I found that I had not only acted like an ice princess, but that I had actually been one.
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A hint of shame lightened between my other emotions, and I promised myself I wouldn't become one again. I had melted, never to be frozen again.
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That had been a night of epiphanies. Many things were cleared up and revealed during the hours I pondered my feelings towards Flynn - only then I had notevenknown his name yet.
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I smiled softly - not the kind I used to smile, before, but a dim shade that never reached my eyes anymore. How unknowing and oblivious I had been! But deep in my heart I longed for the time everything was easier and without agony, like only my dreams were now.
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The evening of the next day, I waited at the bottom of the stairs. He came and smiled at me, not seeming to be surprised at all.
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"What's your name?" was my greeting. I tried to put just enough curiosity in my voice - I had to hide most of it.
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The smile stayed on his place. "It's Flynn," he answered friendly.
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"You're a messenger, right?" I asked further. I had to know the answers of the questions that were not too awkward too ask.
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His face fell. "I am," he affirmed sadly, and the gleam in his beautiful blue eyes expired for a moment.
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I wondered why. Maybe he had hoped on a better job? But I decided not to ask. I would show him I had a good side, and that I could respect his privacy.
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Our walks through the garden had become a custom. Sometimes we talked, sometimes we stayed silent. When I thought about it afterward, it was weird that no one caught us earlier. But maybe it was because the garden was mostly abandoned.
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But then, one late autumn day, the routine was interrupted by an event that was - according to me - almost too good to be true. Maybe just because of the fact I was too happy, my happiness was taken from me not long after. My eyes stung as they flooded.
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In the middle of one of the garden's paths, he stopped walking, so I did, too.
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"What's wrong?, I asked , surprised by his sudden stop. My eyes flew over his face, taking in his expression like they had done so many times before. He looked frustrated and his jaw was clenched stubbornly.
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"I-" he broke off. He closed his mouth. Then opened it again, and I remembered the times I had done that. Only he didn't look like a fish.
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Just when he was going to speak, his head shifted to the side. Narrowing his eyes, as if trying to see something, he stepped in the direction of his attention. He had apparently heard something.
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Then his gaze snapped back to my confused stare, and he grasped my hand.
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"Someone's here. We have to get away."
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I understood immediately. He, too, knew that it was inappropriate for a princess to interact with an ordinary messenger, and he didn't want to get me into trouble.
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He led me to a path that was edged by high hedges.
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"They can't see us here," he reassured me. I sighed in relief. What would my parents have said if they knew I walked with a messenger every day? But I dismissed the thought. No time for this now.
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Secretly, I was glad I was somewhere alone with Flynn. The garden had been abandoned most of the time, but between these walls of leaves I felt safe and secure.
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When I looked into Flynn's lapis lazuli eyes, I knew for certain he felt the same way.
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In books you always read that love is a sudden epiphany. People realize they're in love with another person in one moment, one vital second of their lives, like it's the sun that reappears after being hidden after clouds.
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I didn't realize. I just understood what I had known all along, like the sun that rises in the morning, gradually and steady.
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While I experienced the essence of love to the fullest, Flynn took my other hand too.
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We both felt the tension that vibrated through the air, and the decisiveness of the moment that was going to come.
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"I-", he started again, but this time he wasn't interrupted by a sound, but by me.
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I freed one of my hands from his and put the tops of my fingers over his mouth. I felt his warm breath wash over them as he opened his soft lips. His eyes displayed the slightest hint of insecurity from his side.
But this moment was so right, so truthful, that I was convinced he loved me back, even if he didn't say it. No, I wasn't vain and spoiled anymore. I was just right.
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"I know," I smiled, showing all my love and adoration in my expression.
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His answering one was dazzling. His smile was so broad he was showing his teeth, and I briefly wondered if his cheeks were hurting. Out of his wonderful eyes shone that emotion again, and now I was able to give it a name - a cliché and cheesy name, but a true one - love.
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That was my most precious memory of Flynn - our silent confessions. It hurt even more remembering that than it did when thinking about any other one. But it was all torture.
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It really wasn't a good idea to deepen my thoughts about him - but it was too late. The flood I had been holdingback was now coming all over me, and there was no way to stop it.
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The agony of my white hot burning heart was just the price I paid.
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But I couldn't help but remember what happened next…
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As we were smiling like idiots at each other, my heart was beating almost violently. It felt like it was going to explode of joy, if such a thing were possible.
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His expression seemed like his thoughts were on the same line as mine. Like our hearts were beating in the same rhythm and our souls were synchronized.
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And then he suddenly pulled me to him, every single part of our bodies touching. Chests to chests, stomachs to stomachs, legs to legs. My back was arched like that of a snake, and Flynn had released my hands. They were now resting on his chest, and his were pushing me against him. One arm around my waist and one on my back, his touch burning an invisible mark into my bones.
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And then his lips crushed on mine, and our desires became one, just like our hearts and souls already had. Only part of my mind thought about how improper this behavior must be for a young lady, a princess even! But then I pushed that part to the background and kissed Flynn back.
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I had no idea what I was doing, of course. I only knew the feeling of his lips against mine, one of his hands traveling from my back to my face, then softly caressing my cheek with a feather light touch. I reacted instinctively and replaced my hands to his face, one on each side, pulling him closer to me.
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His lips pushed mine open, and I breathed into his mouth. Then I moved them against his, just like he had done before. A soft moan escaped his lips, and I smiled. That was the best compliment I had ever been given.
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And my only wish in those moments was that I could get closer to him, even though I was leaning against him as close as possible, secure and wrapped up in his strong arms.
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Rivers of tears were streaming down my face now. My sad desire to be wrapped in those arms and kiss those feathery lips once again tore my heart apart for the millionth time.
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To the story of Flynn and me, there was only one end - a horrible one, not the end that would be described in any happy romance novel.
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Only a few days later, when we were still fully discovering and experiencing our beginning love, the most heartbreaking and lifetwisting moment of my existence was due to happen. I had often tortured myself with the thought that if I had been smarter and more careful I could have foreseen or even prevented it.
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But it was too late now.
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"No, father!" I yelled, echoes reflecting against the high walls and the ceiling of the throne hall.
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My heart was frozen in panic, and I frantically tried to convince my father he was making the greatest mistake of his life, by ruining mine.
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"You can't do that! You can't! I swear, you -" My voice broke down and sobs rose from the back of my throat. Not Flynn! Not him! That was the only thought that dominated my mind. Not Flynn!
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"I'm sorry my dear, but I must. I can't allow you to interact with that… servant." He uttered the last word like it was filthy, his nose lifted and the corners of his mouth turned down in disgust. "This is the only way to make sure you never speak to him again." Not a hint of sorry was inserted in his voice, even though he looked at me with pity.
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"But I won't! Ever again! Just please-" I swallowed loudly, trying to control my emotions. But I knew that was impossible. Then I continued my begging in a softer voice. "Just please, please don't- Do that to him. I will do anything, I beg you." I couldn't manage to utter the right words. I couldn't force them over my lips. My face was wet with salt tears as my words grew desperate.
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Dizziness surrounded me when I started hyperventilating. Too little oxygen, my lungs screamed. Not Flynn, not him, my heart and my mind yelled back.
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Trying to control my breath, my father's words reached me through the thick fog I was disappearing into. "It's the only way, my dear. Not only to keep him from you, but to be sure such a thing will never happen again." How cruel he was! This was not my father speaking, I realized. This was the king. He had set his fatherly feelings aside and handled the situation like he was supposed to, without his emotions interfering.
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And then, when the sightless situation pierced the confused and desperately powerless alarm bells in my brain, my heart was ripped into frayed pieces.
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I was loudly sobbing now, struggling to breathe. Reliving that crushing memory made me feel an overwhelming ache in my chest and abanging pain pressing on my temples.
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That exulting afternoon so many months ago, the joining of Flynn's soul with mine, there had been another person in the garden - but not a coincidental passenger. I still didn't know who it had been - as that would be healthier for that person - but he had eardropped on our conversation. Undoubtedly to be promoted, he had informed the king of our relation.
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So much pain and suffering - and for what? A better job? More money? My broken heart - and not only broken, but ripped , pierced and stepped on - was due to money or rank?
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Even when I tried to, I couldn't feel the rage. Oh, I had - too much and too long, leaving a bitter taste on the back of my tongue - but now I just felt exhausted. What had been the meaning of our love if it hadn't led to any good? For what mysterious reason did we discover the true essence of the word, only to let it lead to Flynn's death?
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Yes, death. Death, death, death. He was dead. He was never coming back - I tried to fully let that get through my brain, but it hurt too much. I flinched away from the effort.
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Death. I had seen it, with my own eyes - death. His.
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I ran through the corridors, on my way out. "No, no, no! No!" I whispered, to no one in particular. "No, please!" Sprinting down the stairs, the place we first met, my heart was racing as fast as I was. I jumped down the last few steps and then stopped dead in my tracks.
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The king's men. I went cold as ice as I saw what they were carrying. There were four of them, their shoulders squared and their expressions serious. A stretcher carried between them. With a cloth laid upon it.
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I had a fearful presentiment - and it was proven right as suddenly one arm, the left one, fell from under the cloth.
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The muscled arm was unbelievably pale, with a hint of blue. Not yet stiff but still obviously not alive anymore. And I immediately recognized it.
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I knew every single facet of Flynn's handsome face, his broad shoulders, his strong arms and his loving hands. I had experienced the way they felt when he held me, the way it felt when he stroked the hair out of my face. I knew the feel of my cheeks caught between his hands, the way those same hands closed around my much smaller ones when he held them, and above all I knew the soft loving touch of his full lips against mine.
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And now I knew how his arm looked when the life had left him.
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Then, as if I wasn't crushed already, I collapsed onto the floor, a small heap of great misery.
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My life had ended that day, together with Flynn's. I had never recovered, nor would I ever. The rest of my useless life I would be crying every night, as I did now, and desperately call out his name.
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"Flynn." I croaked, my throat hoarse from my waterfall of tears. "Flynn!" I sent my longing cry through the open window, to the dark evening sky. It had the color of his eyes, I realized, and yet another wave of miserable sadness washed over me.
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But then the air changed - I didn't know if it was just a summer breeze, or my imagination, but suddenly the cold night's blow changed into a warm one. Sitting there in front of the open window, it was like someone breathed on me - through me. I sniffed when I found a change in scent, and a familiar mix of spices and cinnamon overwhelmed my mind.
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"Flynn?" I asked uncertainly, hope involuntary flaming.
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Even though there was no reply, an aura of affirmation spread over me. He was here! Joy burst through my veins and came to an explosion in their center - my heart.
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I leaned closer to the evening outside. The wind softly caressed my face, my cheeks, my lips. Flynn's name drifted through them as I sighed admiringly, cherishing every touch that was so similar to his.
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I closed my eyes. Without my sight, all my other senses were full of him. I smelled his delicious scent, and when I opened my mouth slightly, I could taste its spices and sweetness on my tongue. My skin was absorbing the feel of his adoring strokes once again, memorizing it.
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And while the night was silent and peaceful, I heard a soft whisper, like the rustling of the breeze on the green leaves of the apple tree that stood just beside my window.
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"Dreams do not always come true…"
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And then my Flynn was gone.




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