The Rose's Flame

Walking in the Past

Our opportunity occurred a few days after the summer festival. Ambrosia ate something that did not agree with her during luncheon, and Nathan was forced to attend to her. Oliver and I took this opportunity to give them both the slip.

Oliver guided me through a part of the castle I had never seen before. As I noticed soot stains and broken sections of wall becoming more common, I realized where we were headed.

"Oliver, why are you taking me to the west wing? Is it not uninhabitable and walled off from the rest of the castle?"

"Uninhabitable, but not inaccessible." Oliver replied.

It suddenly occurred to me why he might want me to see this part of the castle. "Oliver...are you planning to tell me how you become as you are?"

"Yes, I thought a walk through the scene would make the story easier to understand."

I had to tread carefully to avoid piles of debris as the corridor became more and more decrepit. The hem of my gown was quickly coated in dust. I was unsure how Oliver was able to traverse the treacherous terrain, but somehow he managed.

We stepped into the husk of a tower. There had obviously been at least two stories at one point, but now, I could see all the way up to scorched ceiling high above. There were piles of broken wood that might have once been the second floor. Among the more solid debris, I saw the corpses of burnt...books?

"This used to be the castle library." Oliver said. He pointed to an alcove built into the wall halfway up the tower. "Do you see that? That was once a fireplace. When I was a young boy, I used to lay on the sofa in front of it, reading for days on end."

"Is that what started the fire?" I asked.

"We are unsure. Some have speculated that embers got past the hearth onto the carpeting. Others think one of the drapes blew over a lit torch. Personally, I do not know. All I know is that I fell asleep reading one day, and when I awoke, everything was aflame."

"Oh my!"

Oliver shuffled over to a dusty stone bench that had weathered the years and sat down wearily. I sat down next to him, taking his hand and stroking it with my thumb. Oliver hesitantly leaned on my should before continuing his tale.

"I tried to find the stairs, but I found myself surrounded by walls of fire on all sides. The smoke choked me, and I could not call for help. Suddenly, my father emerged from the flames-his face covered in soot and coughing out my name. He took me in his arms and ran down the already burning stairs. Just as we got past the landing, the stairs collapsed."

My hand flew to my mouth. "Did your father...?"

Oliver nodded. "The last thing I remember is the horrible pain of landing thirty feet below. They say my father hit his head and was killed upon impact. The men who retrieved us once the fire was under control thought I was dead too. Landing on my father's body probably saved my life; though, by all accounts, I should have died of my injuries."

"How did you survive?" I asked.

"I do not know; fate smiled upon me, I suppose. Whatever the reason, I was bedridden for almost two years."

I could not even begin to comprehend the amount of pain Oliver had suffered in his short life. To think I had thought him a monster when I first came here-I was the monster for thinking all that suffering a reason to fear him.

"Rose, I know this seems sudden, but I have been thinking long and hard about this. I think it would be for the best if we called off our engagement." Oliver bowed his head and would not meet my eyes.

"What? Why would you want to call off the engagement now?" I said, horror evident in my voice. "The wedding is tomorrow, and all the guests from outside Enchantment have arrived! Besides, Sir Nathan told me that you are smitten with me."

Oliver sighed. "I told him that in confidence, but what he says is true. It is not that I am not fond of your or anything; you are a wonderful woman." Oliver paused, taking a deep breath. "I feel we should call it off because, though my condition has been gradually worsening for a most of my life, it recently took a dramatic turn for the worst. The undeniable truth is that I will probably be dead before the year's end. I do not want to leave you a widow before your eighteenth year."

My heart crumpled like parchment; his words confirmed the truth I had been denying to myself.

"Rose," he took my hand, "please, return to your father and find another man to marry-someone who can provide you with a long, happy marriage. Marrying me will only bring you tragedy and misery."

I let go of his hand and stared at the dusty cobblestones beneath our feet. I wiped my eyes with one hand, fighting back tears. "Oliver, I have a confession to make."

Oliver looked at me, obviously concerned. "What is it?"

"My father does not want me back; he arranged our betrothal solely on the fact that you are ill. I have been struggling with this since I came here. Can I really marry you, a dying man, to inherit your riches-for my father's sake?"

Oliver looked down at his hands, stiffness in his shoulders. "I guess I should have known you only went along with this for my riches. I was a fool to think otherwise."

I gripped the edge of the bench, my knuckles going white. "I am not though. I have no desire for your riches." A tear dripped onto my gown. "I think I have known for a few weeks now that you are nearing the end of your life, but that knowledge has made me want to stay by your side all the more."

"To please your father." Oliver said bitterly.

"Because I love you."

Oliver looked at me as if I had just birthed a goat. He stared at me for half a minute, mouth agape, before turning away and putting his face in his hands. He swallowed several times before casting his mask aside and wiping at his eyes.

"Oliver...?" I hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder.

Oliver immediately batted my hand away. "How could you say something like that to me?" His expression was accusatory.

"I speak the truth! Oliver, I may have been betrothed to you for political reasons, but this is not a political marriage to me anymore." I said.

"Look, Rose, I do not believe you are lying. I know you are far too pure to have such unsavory motives as to want to marry someone for riches. However, do not mistake me for a fool. I act as if I do not hear how people view those like me, but I do hear. For all I know, you could harbor some kind of genuine feeling for me, but do not mistake it for love. Even from the day we met, I knew the only reason you were so kind to me was because you pity me." Oliver said.

"You tell me not to mistake you for a fool, but don't take me for one either." I said. "You are right, I did pity you when we first met, however, that is not what prompts my feelings." I bowed my head and closed my eyes. "Oliver, I cannot even comprehend the pain you have endured, and it breaks my heart to see how little those beneath you respect you for it. Even your own mother treats you like you are unintelligent and weak. Frankly, I think you are the smartest and strongest man I have ever known. On top of that, you showed me respect when I showed you none. Because of that, I have grown quite fond of you."

"Rose, a beautiful woman like you cannot fall in love with a man like me. People like me are portrayed as the monsters in fairytales for a reason."

"You are wrong, Oliver. You speak from your low opinion of yourself, not the truth. No matter whether you believe it possible or not, the truth is that I do love you. You cannot change my mind of that, no matter what you say. If you are truly to die, I want to stay by your side, even if that means holding your hand as you breathe your last."

I took his hand in mine and gently tugged his glove off. His had was as gnarled and scarred as the rest of him. I raised his ungloved hand to my lips and pressed it against them for a moment. I held his hand even after the kiss, stroking it with my thumb.

Oliver's mouth gaped open in shock.

"If you are willing, I would like to continue our engagement."

Oliver, too stunned to speak, nodded.