Thorn in the Rose {Book 1 Of The Once Upon A Time Chronicles}

Chapter 17: Solitude

I don't understand why I can't get her out of my head. Every minute of every hour of the last day or so all I can think about is her. That bow-wielding woman who without fear stepped inside my home. Even though she was clearly in a mixture of shock and fear when she laid eyes on me, she bravely loosened an arrow in my direction to kill me. I can't stop thinking of her. Can't stop. I've tried. Oh, how I've tried to get her out of my head. I've desperately attempted again and again and again get make her leave my thoughts. But no matter what I do she just won't go away. She won't leave me.

I simply cannot stop the swarming thoughts of my hatred for her from resurfacing time and time again. Like a loop cursedly given to me by the devil himself.

With a book curled up in my paw, I silently march out of one of the back doors of the castle and with long strides make my way to the old rose garden.

Sighing, I shake my head at the conditions my sweet garden had been reduced to over these cursed years. Blades of grass withered and black, starving for even a drop of sunlight or water. All the plants have died alongside the grass. This section bore so many beautiful roses, all of them the colour of blood now resembled a graveyard.

With a few more steps I reach a moss-covered stone bench where I happily sit and rest my weary legs. I pull at the gold string that I use as a bookmark and proceed to read this play that Belle told me I should read. Romeo and Juliet, his finest work, or so she says.  I much prefer Hamlet or Macbeth but I pressed to leave my comfort zone and seek new works.

Scene 2

    Romeo comes forward.

Romeo

He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

   Enter Juliet above

But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the East, and Juliet is the son. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief
That thou, her maid, art far more fair that she.
Be not her maid since she is envious
Her vestal livery is but sick and green,
And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off.
It is my lady. O, it is my love!
O, that she knew she were!
She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that?
Her eyes discourses; I will answer it.
I am too bold. ' Tis not to me she speaks.
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they win her head?

"The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars As daylight doth a lamp," the sweet voice of Belle comes from behind the thorn-filled bush where she appeared to be hiding.

"How did you know that I was on that page?" I ask, closing the book and placing it beside me.

Crossing her arms over her chest she leans against the more studier of the white stone pillars that surround this patch of the garden.

"You were reading out loud again," she grins, "Besides, I've read that play many times I can easily recite the entire thing by heart. Word for word," she adds as she moves from the pillar to the seat beside me.

"I came here to try and relax," I huff.

"Am I not relaxing to be around?" she asks with a laugh.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it to come out that way. I've just had a lot on my mind recently and wanted to be alone for a while," I explain, hoping that she will accept this plea without a fight and leave.

She usually never lets me be alone. Anytime I ask it turns into a massive fight, one that she normally wins. There are rare occurrences where she does what I ask and I'm hoping that today will be one of them.

I need to be alone to think or rather not think. I need to get that voleuse out of my head and I know for a fact that having Belle here will make that difficult. Besides if she were to find out why I want to be alone it will just turn into a fight and I'm not in the mood for fighting today.

A small smile tugs at her lips which can either be a good sign or mean that screaming is about to start.

"Alright, I'll leave you to your reading. You're at a good scene," she says pointing to the book. With her hands tucked away in her lap, she gets up and leaves.

Sighing, I lean back against the pillar behind me careful not to allow too much of my weight to press against it in fear that it would fall like some of the others have. No amount of reading will stop the thoughts of her from reappearing. No activity will take away the hate I feel for her. I doubt she will ever come back here but if by slim chance she does decide to come crawling back here like the little voleuse she is I will be ready for her.

She will not leave my castle alive that is a promise I must make to myself. For if I don't I know she will plague my mind until one of us is gone from this world. Death might be the only thing on this planet that will free my mind from her.

But while I wait for the day when she might return I will continue to come here to this bench and wait. Here in my graveyard-like garden which over the many years had become my place of solitude, I will wait.

So he can't get her out of his mind. Although it's not for a good reason. 

I'm not going to lie writing this chapter was quite hard, mostly because I was trying to write it while I was busy with finals but I think it turned out alright.

The next chapter will be from Maurie's POV. We will finally get to see more of his character and meet a couple more of the souls living in the castle. 

Voleuse= thief