Delilah's voice filled his dreams like they always did whilst he was unconscious; just like when that voice had been his only companion in the weeks he spent in the darkness of the coma, simon had dreams of her every night since he had left her standing at the alter of the village church.
The former stable boy could only guess that his subconscious hadn't yet grown accustomed to the idea that he was no longer unable to wake up.
"Tell me again about this princess of yours." The woman in the sea green dress asked. She was not angry with him as she asked this, like she had the right to be, or devastated, as he had last left her. Instead she lay beside him in a state of content, looking as carefree and unbothered as she usually did, as if the whole fiasco in the church had never even happened.
"Adalaide?" He smiled.
"Well, she's quite beautiful, as you'd expect of a princess." He started, picturing her inside his mind.
"But not just on the outside, it's the inside as well. She's gentle and kind, and she's got this otherworldly kind of innocence that's just breathtaking."
"Oh really?" Asks the woman beside him, beautiful emerald eyes staring at him with curious question, no pain, jealousy, or even hurt in them as she pried, only genuine curiosity, making his breath still for a moment in his lungs.
"Though her naivety can get her into trouble sometimes."
He laughed after clearing his throat.
"Before we started courting, but many years after I had already lost my head for her, she became betrothed to this pretty boy prince."
He shook his head.
"Anyway the guy... this Prince turned out to be quite the villian; lies, treason, attempted murder. It's a long list." Delilah laughed as so casually explained such a dark matter.
"It's pretty funny to laugh at now..." Simon chuckled, but before he could say anything else, Delilah faded from his vision.
He awoke from the dream, and found himself instead of upon Delilah's warm quilted bed, he lay in his sleeping bundle on the hard frozen ground. Gone was the heat of the roaring fireplace, instead he received an icy blast of wind. Simon did his best to simply ignore it. What he could not ignore though, was the harsh memory of the last time he had seen Delilah.
"I've got to go, I've got to find her!"
He had cried, turning from the father and walking toward the door.
His head filled with no other thought.
"You can't go back there!"
She cried out before beginning to chase after him.
"It could be just a rumor, we have been mistaken before."
She said finally catching up to him as he stepped outside, grabbing at his arm.
"I can't take that chance!"
He exclaimed.
"If there's even a sliver of hope, a chance that she's alive... I've got to take it Delilah. I've got to go back now. You've got to understand... I, I, I love her!" He stuttered before continuing.
"I would do ANYTHING for her."
He turned back to face her as the last string of words finished leaving his mouth. Shock, betrayal and pain could read accross her face, cutting into him like a knife, and causing him instant regret.
"Delilah, I'm sorry I didn't mean..."
But before he could finish she cut him off.
"Oh no, I.... I understand perfectly."
She held up a hand to silence him, her lips pressing into a thin, bitter line.
But in a moment, the bitterness faded, and like the earthly angel that she was, Delilah's voice filled once again with concern.
"I understand." She repeated, this time softer, her tense posture relaxing.
"I am so sorry. This isn't fair to you."
Was all he could muster.
"I, I have to help her..."
"Say no more. Let us not drag this out any longer than we have too."
She reached into the satchel around her waist and pulled out a jingling leather purse. Without saying a word, she grabbed Simon's hand and placed the small leather bag into his hands.
"What's this?"
He questioned staring at it.
"It's the money I made from the mill." She replied. Simon raised his hand in protest and was about to refuse when she said
"Just take it ok, you need it."
"But what about you?!? It's your money?!" He protested but she simply shook her head.
YOU ARE READING
A Thorn In The Ice
Historical Fiction"I fully expected you to say that I was the sort of Prince whose story would involve going into cahoots with the dragon, rather than slaying it." Iolas smiled, but their was a level of seriousness to his statement. "That is where you are wrong, de...
