HIS RUN BECAME A TROT. A golden and sliver gate laid in front of you. The castle looked the same as in your dreams. Your castle was entirely white. The battement was light blue. The flags a black. The castle was wedged between two barriers of similar magic. Two large domes, both edges coming together and forming a new purple larger one.
Titian skidded to a slow stop. Shaking his head he sat down. His ears resting against his head.
Your eyes were fixated on the castle in front of you. A sweet taste on your tongue. Cinnamon. Cinnamon pie. Mothers cooking. You used to hate cinnamon pie but you ate it to be respectful. You were finally home. After all those months. Years maybe. You could finally see your castle.
Bloodstained your dress, hands and face. It had already dried, cracking against your skin. And flaking against the harsh wind. You looked like you'd seen a ghost. Eyes hauntingly lifeless. Eyes that were a window to no emotion.
The gates opened as they had in your dreams. Faces staring and whispering every now and then, when they saw you. Gasps and points. Bows, smiles and cheers. Honestly you didn't care. That was another bridge to cross when you got there.
It was stupid of you for trying to stop the raging wind. It would've taken time for the weather to return to normal. Now that you were home anyway.
It didn't matter.
Your walk was uneven. Practically a limp. Like a programmed machine. One foot after the other. Your hair uneven and shaken.
Eerily and mindlessly roaming around your castle you stopped at a child's room.
"This was her room?" You queered quietly. Even though no one was behind you. You still spoke as if she could hear you. Her body wasn't in your hands.
But her blood was.
It was a light blue. Stuffed animals and pillows at all the corners. The walls were light. The same way you left it. Some of the draws were still half-built. The clothes scattered around. Most still with tags and packaging on them.
Stepping inside you picked up a nearby pillow. Taking it out of the packaging. You threw the plastic on the ground.
Putting it up to your nose. It didn't smell like her. Sweet fruit. It smelt old. Used. Like a factory. That just made you want to burst into tears. She had been taken away from you sadly.
Quickly.
A figure at the door.
"She's died"
You clutched at the pillow.
"I'm sorry I never sent a letter-I was. I was going to"
"I'm sorry I never told you. You know me. I must've gotten too excited" You laughed through tiers trying to maintain an upbeat tone.
Silence.
There was no answer.
"I didn't think anything would've happened" Your eyes didn't move from the pillow in your hands.
"This room was meant for her after all" You looked down as you spoke. You felt ashamed. Like you held the knife fo her small heart.
"What did she look like?"
Looking next to you he sat. Shoto seemed as lost as you. His eyes scanned around the room. He had never seen it. He never even knew it was there. Let alone about Satomi.
"Like you"
All he felt like doing was crying. Telling you it would be okay. Grieving. But he knew he had not timed for it. No time to register about him suddenly having a daughter and then not. So he sat there quietly trying to figure out what to do next.
"I'm sorry I-"
The Prince's head turned to your blood-stained hands. Then to your messy black hair.
"What was her name?"
Shoto ran a hand through his hair. He knew the answer. He just wanted to see it depart from your lips.
"Satomi"
"Who old was she"
"One-" you took a deep breath in through your nose. Then breathed out through your mouth.
"Month old" you whispered.
She was dead. And he never knew she existed.
"Why didn't you tell me"
You paused. Pushing your face onto the stuffed animal. It hurt so much. How could a baby's be dead. And the world was still spinning. WHY didn't they care....
"Wrong timing"
Your voice was muffled. You knew he was mad. But you also knew he had a right to know.
"It's about him isn't it" He got up. Now standing.
"I didn't want to complicate things for you. I knew it wasn't the right time for you"
"I still should've gotten a say" He looked at you. In the eyes this time. It was the first time he had looked at you since you'd gotten back.
You looked down. You felt ashamed for your decision.
"Your parents want to see you"
You didn't say anything instead you left out the door. Still grasping the pillow.
Death was something you didn't understand about the mortals you watched. How they cried and wept over their dead. For days, years even. In Greece it was different. You'd say fair well. And if you knew who the person was. Well an eye for an eye. A life for a life. Pain should be felt on both sides.
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