text: The pair of you move together. You try not to lean on her too much. As much you want to pretend everything is normal, that the looks she gives you are of pure love, you can't. The chitchat, the touches, everything feels fake. In some ways it is. However, the public is not aware of these subtle underlying tones. Wherever you two walk, you leave lighthearted chuckles and optimistic smiles behind.
  
  Moving through the corridors you reach a small and secluded spot near the courtyard. It's been a favorite spot of yours, a little oasis of peace within the chaos of everyday life. Isabella helps you sit down. You feel the grass between your fingers. It helps remind you of simpler times.
  
  "I am sorry Isabella," you sigh. "That hunt was madness."
  
  "It's okay. You survived and hopefully learned a lesson out of it." She pokes you a little too hard at the end.
  
  "That hurt!" you fake with indignation. "Still, you had to suddenly leave behind everything you'd built up."
  
  "I didn't have to leave, Robert. I did it out of my own volition. You could've just as easily recovered without me, no?"
  
  "Besides," she adds playfully. "I felt out of place at the capital anyways."
  
  You close your eyes. It's extraordinarily warm weather for fall. The sun shines brightly and warms your cheeks. This was like a dream. The love of your life lies next to you. Still, something bothers you. As beautiful as this dream could be, it's not real. She cheated on you. She betrayed you and now pretends nothing has happened. You simply don't know what parts are true and what parts are lies. Every word could be a lie; some words are definitely lies. Does she still love you? Not knowing where you stand pains you greatly.
  
  > let the matter lay.
  No, you don't want this pretty little lie end. You want to relax, and pretend nothing happened, that everything is back as it once was. You let yourself fall further back into the grass.
  
  "Robert?"
  
  "Yes, sweetheart?"
  
  "Why did you go on that hunt anyways? You are usually so careful with such things." She had to bring it up.
  
  "The plan changed last minute. We had planned for hunting boars."
  
  She remained quiet. Somehow you sense her wanting to hear more.
  
  "Garreth thought it would clear my mind." Please accept it as it is; please stop prying.
  
  "I'll need to have a talk with him. For someone so old he still behaves like a teenager sometimes." What a hypocrite. No, don't think that. Ignore what happened.
  
  "He meant well. I survived. In the end, we are both sitting here, right? Nothing has really happened." But it did. So much changed.
  
  "Robert, don't be like that. You had me worried sick. You know that right? I don't know what I would have done if..if.." Her bottled up emotions surface. You feel a sick sense of pride knowing she had been worried. All is not lost. All is not lost.
  
  "Come, sweetie. I survived remember?" you say while embracing her. You feel her eyes wet your shoulder. It feels like time stops in your little oasis. Everything feels so right, even if it's so wrong.
  
  "I'm sorry Robert. I can't." Suddenly Isabella stands up, eyes puffy and red. Before you can react, she runs away.
  
  "Isabella!" you call after her. It's no use. Fuck. What went wrong? Do you even want to go after her?
  
  > Yes. You have to.
  You don't want to lose her. You'll have to fight for her. The once sunny alcove feels cold now, hostile even. You push yourself up and with great struggle find your way out. You are determined to face the hurt. The physical pain keeps your mind sharp.
  
  You find your Isabel not far from there. She looks like she broke down as soon as she left.
  
  "Isa..Isa, it's alright," you try to comfort her as best as you can. "Come, let's get you somewhere safe."
  
  "It's not alright," she replies with an unfamiliar vehemence. "And stop doing that!" She slinks down further and away from your touch.
  
  "Stop doing what, Isa? You are not making any sense, please talk to me!" You are getting desperate.
  
  "Please go away. Leave me alone."
  
  "This is not you Isa. When I look at you, I still see that brilliantly innocent girl that I wanted to dedicate my life to. You know, I still see her beautiful hair, her self conscious smile. That beautiful smile that brightens the world and everyone in it." For a moment she stops her shivering and looks up at you. "See, there it is. Please, Isabella, tell me how you feel."
  
  "I feel guilty," her small voice barely enters your ear. "I feel guilty for what I felt, for what I've done." A repressed part of you roars its dissatisfaction. A small part of you hoped it was simply your own imagination, that it wasn't real.
  
  "I am sorry, Robert. I am simply sorry for everything." Defeated, she slumps deeper, hugging herself as tightly as she can.
  
  > stay silent.
  You don't know what to say and what to feel. Her admittance of that night pains your greatly, yet you feel the burden of upholding false love ebb away. She is right there in front of you, glorious in all her authenticity. But you find you can't just forgive and forget. The last days had left a scar that would take its time to heal.
  
  "Thank you for telling me," you start to say. It's the only thing you're certain of in this very moment.
  
  "Robert, I don't deserve-"
  
  "Please hear me out, Isa," you interrupt. "I appreciate your honesty. I really do, but I need time to process it all. I can't just forget it all happened, even though that would be the easiest for both of us."
  
  Your Isabella first looks troubled, then her face turns miserable all over.
  
  "I'm sorry. This was a bad idea, I shouldn't have come. I shouldn't have left."
  
  You're about to reassure her, but you find yourself empty. The well of sympathy and love has dried up.
  
  "I can't do this, Isa. It'll be better for us to just drift apart for a while. I need time to think and I feel you do too."
  
  With that said, you stand up to leave.
  
  "Please, Robert."
  
  Her call for help fills your void, yet following it would only lead you into more harm later on. One last lingering touch, one last wanting gaze, and you force yourself to walk away.
  
  You leave soft sobbing behind.
  
  > And look for peace and quiet.
  Walking away makes you feel sick. Only a coward would abandon his wife in times of need. Every step makes your heart sink deeper into the black nothingness. It's something that must be done. You have to stop putting her above you in everything you do.
  
  Walking itself is hard. Not so long ago it was still a miracle to stay alive. As you move through the halls and chambers, people throw you sympathetic looks. News got out far too soon. You wonder how much they exactly know. You've never felt this alone before.
  
  You can't stop. You can't let everything catch up. Walking is the one thing that keeps you going. Your walk fills the hours. Finally, exhaustion forces you to slump in defeat.
  
  "I was wondering when you'd stop." The tone was equally hard and sympathetic.
  
  As you look up, you see Garreth approach from the shadows.
  
  "How long have you been here?"
  
  "A while, I'd guessed you'd stop an hour earlier," his overly wistful voice makes you smile. "See, life isn't all that bad."
  
  "Thank you," you mutter.
  
  "I was always there for you before, why would I stop now?" His tone grows more serious. "There isn't anything wrong with you, kid. You're still the kind soul I know from before. But this... This unrequited love is hard to see. I can't let you make the same mistakes over and over again."
  
  "What do you mean?"
  
  "You love Isabella more than anything in the world. I can see that. She can see that. Everybody can see that-"
  
  "Of course I do, how can you not?" It's your gut speaking. "But I hate her for what she has done."
  
  "She's done what she's done. There is no changing that," Garreth remarks. "Do you know why she did it?"
  
  "If I knew I'd be doing something about it already," you remark with vehemence. The tone is promptly ignored.
  
  "Simply put, you're overbearing. You made her your world when she's too busy living in her own. She regrets her actions. The guilt gnaws at her from the inside. Yet whenever you two meet, she's reminded once again of the reason why she made her past mistakes. You tempt her again and again, son, until one day she gives in to the temptations totally and you've pushed her past any chance of redemption."
  
  Your silence offers Garreth enough of a response.
  
  "I get that you don't want to hear this. They're hard words. The truth is ugly and life is hard. Still, if you're half the man I think you are, you'll be ready for it. You just need time, son, time to think it all through. It will come together. I promise you that."
  
  Garreth leaves you alone once again.
  
  > Leaving you with nothing but time to think it all through.
  He was right. Even admitting that fact feels wrong, feels like you're abandoning your life, but Garreth was right. You have to take a step back in order to not be overwhelmed. Maybe it's for the best, maybe you just need to focus on other things.
  
  So the next days you focus solely on your body ignoring any other problem. Injuries need time to heal, but corporeal ones heal faster with effort. With grim determination, you force yourself to move properly again. It gives you solace, a place and period of peace. You have Myre reteach you the once familiar drills. Every set move, every twist and every blow strengthens your mind too.
  
  Eventually, you regain some sort of self. You start to feel hope and desires independent from Isabella. The throne room becomes a familiar place once again. Sometimes you feel a looming presence, just out of reach. A flicker of light that turns dark at a mere glance. Garreth says it's your father, coming back to ground to see his child finally grow to maturity. That's pure drivel of course. It has to be.
  
  All this shows you can live a life independent from your true love. Yet it's still incomplete. The days fill with busywork, all for grander purpose, all for empty duty. It doesn't feel alive like the joy and sorrow you'd experienced. Compared to before, everything is grey, motionless, dead.
  
  The days pass by very slowly. Whereas you've kept yourself busy, there's always a hole, a nagging empty feeling that pervades everything you do. As much as you deny it, as much as you try to better yourself, nothing replaces your true love. You don't get it. It is nothing shy of self-sabotage. Yet it is there; she is there, always at the top of our head.
  
  Until one day you can't resist. You feel the strings pull you towards her once again. You'd rather get burnt by the fire than live out another day in the gloom.
  
  Then on the way, you spot your old mentor. Why is he always there, uninvited and unwanted?
  
  "What do you want?" you sigh.
  
  "Saving you from your youthful mistake," he replies with sharp intent.
  
  "It's not worth it, Garreth. Save yourself the air and effort. I want to do this."
  
  "There is another way," he replies, eyes lit with fire. "What you are looking for is connection, a feeling of being wanted. You are not looking for her specifically."
  
  "What are you talking about. Just leave me alone for one moment!"
  
  "You're alone and will forever be when you decide to go with her," Garreth replies without hesitation. "Go with her and you'll continue this desperate cycle of reaching and pushing away. It will be the end of you!" his voice broke at the end.
  
  "I wanted to wait until you came to this conclusion on your own," he continues. "But I see you need me now more than ever. Stop this madness, follow me instead."
  
  He grabs you by the shoulder, his dark eyes boring into yours, imploring you to listen.
  
  > push him away.
  "No."
  
  You push yourself free from his grasp. Leaving the old man defeated on the floor. There was only one you would follow. You would follow her to death if you had to. Any uncertainty and all doubt have been swept away.
  
  There, you can see her. She had made herself home at the balcony. She stared into oblivion, untouched by the cold wind that blew past her. Only her light dress wavered and flapped its wings. She was beautiful.
  
  You moved closer. You feel your love nearing. Your heart roars once again, nestling his beat in your throat. You've never felt so alive as of now. She didn't notice you. You'll surprise her as you always did. You want to touch her. You want her more than anything, feel her enter your life once again.
  
  She feels so cold. You wrap her in your warm embrace, sensing her warm up to you. You don't have to say anything, don't want to say anything. The silence is moving.
  
  Yet you don't feel enough. Your Isa was never so still, never could keep her posture like that. You move around, wanting to catch her eyes, wanting to see her eyes.
  
  No. It can't be. Your world, so happy and full of life, breaks apart in tiny dead broken pieces. She is dead. The love of your life has left your world, never to return. You can't believe it. Your heart has sunk to your stomach as you fall to your knees.
  
  Isa!
  
  No..
  
  Please don't do this to me...
  
  Yet she calls...
  
  You jump, falling your way back.
  
  Forever with your Isa.
  
  > Epilogue
  "So man did not survive his victory. He fell the beast and thus fell himself," you bombastically end your story. That wordplay should really enlighten your public to the tragical disposition of Lord Robert, the cursed Lover. As you look over your mandolin, you see the whole tavern gazing at you, mouth agape. That couldn't be good with this public.
  
  "And thus concludes our story. I feel we all need a drink after that." You hope it'll bring the jolly atmosphere back. It brought you good coin.
  
  "Bard, what was that?" A patron so eloquently put in word what everyone was thinking.
  
  "It is a truthful retelling of the tragic life of Lord Robert. His love died centuries ago, yet his tragique continues to inspire us to this very day."
  
  "But why?" Another patron joins the verbal fray. You fear they haven't been as inspired as you'd hope.
  
  "To enlighten all of you," you take a stylistic pause and continue with widespread arms. "Only reminiscence can help you save yourselves from catastrophic mistakes. Learn and weep, for we all become better from it."
  
  "If you wanted to make us cry, you could've continued your singing." A third patron apparently uses humor to hide his sorrow.
  
  "Well that's-" you are interrupted by loud laughter that fills the room. These dimwitted peasants have completely missed the point once again. You sigh.
  
  Only a year more before you'll finally have your chance at the court.