Gears of Aspiration

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

    Anya Lelani sat in front of a large vanity in her bedchamber. A handmaiden brushed her long

black hair as Anya looked into the mirror before her. She smiled into the mirror as she

remembered her late husband Prince Edward, son of the former king. She remembered his long

blonde hair and the corded muscles of his arms. She remembered too his boyish smile and the

way he looked at her each night before they bedded down together. Edward was a

striking contrast of herself. He was tall, blonde headed and fair of skin. He towered over petite

little Anya and her dark exotic features were a rarity, even in a city as diverse as Elysium. She

was short and petite of frame. Her skin was as dark as night, her teeth as white as pearls.

Together the two made compelling pair.


    Her smile quickly vanished as she remembered the day Queen Fayne Lelani, Edward’s

mother and wife to King Henri, told her of how Rikard Sarris had killed Edward in battle. Pain

tore through her heart as she remembered how she had once loved the crooked man Rikard. In

her youth Anya meant to marry Rikard. They grew up together. Her father was the Earl of

Spittalfield, and a great friend to Rikard's father.


    That was before her father had betrothed her to Prince Edward Lelani. It was an arranged

marriage, and Anya had wanted nothing to do with it at the time. Her heart belonged to Rikard.

Anya and Edward were engaged when she was ten and married when she reached the age of

twelve. Rikard had gone off to fight with his father and brothers by then and over the years she

had come to love Edward as well. Edward was kind, generous and loving, a prince in every

sense of the word. She wanted nothing more than to enter the court of Henri Lelani by the time

she had married Edward.


    It had been more than ten years since Henri Lelani lost his throne to Addard Sarris. Henri had

regained his throne a couple of short years ago, but Addard raised arms against Henri once

more, overthrowing Lelani and banishing him to the dungeons below Elysium where he

eventually hung himself in his cell. Some say Rikard Sarris had murdered the former king in his

sleep and that scenario seemed far more likely to her than the official story did. Even had he

gone insane, she could not bring herself to believe that Henri Lelani would ever take his own

life. This was just one more reason to hate the man she had once loved so dearly. Rikard not

only had killed her husband in the battle that had given his ambitious brother Addard the throne

once possessed by Henri Lelani, but he had also killed the former king himself as he slept less

than a week ago.


    Henri, during his reign had loved Anya as if she were his own daughter. That was especially

true after he had lost his son Edward. Their relationship was that of adopted father and daughter.

Henri, though no great administrator, was a kind and virtuous man, a goodly man that seemed to

have no bounds to his kindness. He showed love to prince and beggar alike, and this endured the

old man to Anya and made her love for him even stronger.
 

    But she was torn. Anya, though she hated the man, still believed that she loved Rikard of Clan

Sarris. She would remember the times they played together in the old bailey of Castle Norford

as children. She remembered the fun they had together growing up. Though they only saw each

other when their fathers visited each other on business, they grew to love each other. This love

made her hatred of Rikard that much stronger. She did not hate the boy Rikard had been, rather

she hated the man he had become.


    "Sadly, I sit and rue the fall of virtuous Henri Lelani," Anya told her handmaiden. "Tears

streak my face as I remember better times. Sweeter times that may never come again torture me

in my waking hours and invade my dreams. The fog of the past clouds my mind and mists my

eyes," she continued.


    "I dare say anyone would be affected the same way," the handmaiden replied still brushing

Anya’s long ebony hair.  Anya smiled at the young girl's reflection in the mirror before going on

with her statement.


    "Should I invoke his ghost to hear the lamentations of poor Anya, wife to his own slaughtered

son, killed by the selfsame hand that ended the reign of virtuous King Henri?" she asked the

chambermaid.


    "You'll do as you wish, of course," the young girl said diplomatically, being careful not to

betray her own thoughts on the matter.


    "But what would I say to it? Should I think upon it, I believe I would know just the words to

use," Anya stated. "Cursed be the hand that ended your reign! Curse too, the one that had the

gall to do it! Curse the blood that turned our honorable king to nothing more than a cold corpse

and a warm memory! I wish a direr end to the murderer than I could wish upon the most

creeping venomous thing that ever lived! If ever he has a child, may it die rather than give him

pleasure! If ever he should marry, may his spouse lament his death more ruefully than I ever did

poor Edward! These are the words I would use should I attempt to conjure the spirit of pure

Henri Lelani," Anya said as she began to search through the drawers of her vanity for a kerchief

to dab the tears from her eyes.


    "And why should I not invoke his spirit? What harm would it do me? Henry was kind,

pleasant and he loved me as a daughter. Why should I fear dear Henri's ghost? Let he that

murdered King Henri fear his vengeful spirit! Let Rikard Sarris tremble at the sight of that

fearful apparition and despair!"


    As she finished her hate filled curse, Anya noticed that the chambermaid was no longer there,

brushing her hair. Hearing her Lady spewing such vitriol scared the young girl into finishing her

task quickly and making her exit with Anya Lelani left unaware. Anya smiled to herself at the

girl's bravery, amazed that she had lasted long enough to finish her task.


    "I am surprised that she lasted as long as she did," Anya said to herself as she rose and walked

to her chamber door. She opened it and called to a servant demanding a bite to eat from the

kitchens before walking over and taking a seat upon her plush overstuffed mattress to await her

dinner. It didn’t take long at all before  Anya sat on the corner of her bed. Beside her was a tray

of blue cheese and a half loaf of fresh bread. On the table beside the bed was a bottle of sweet

red wine, intense in flavor and aroma. She nibbled the cheese and washed it down with the wine

as she looked through a memory book she had kept since she was a child. Inside its pages were

pressed flowers and autumn leaves, drawings she had made of places she loved to visit or that

had special meanings to her, anything that would stoke her memories and feelings was secure

within the pages of this book.


    She turned the page and what she saw there nearly brought her to tears. Pressed between the

pages of the thick book was a pink wildflower. She recognized it immediately as the type that

grew in the meadows by her father’s castle in Spittalfield. What she saw next did bring a tear to

her eye. Below the dried pink wildflower was a drawing she had made years ago. It was a

picture of a meadow near her childhood home. In the background was her father's castle

surrounded by tall stands of fir trees. But, it was the foreground of the drawing that held Anya's

attention. Sitting cross legged and playing in the tall grasses of the drawing's foreground sat two

children. One was Anya herself, the other was Rikard Sarris. She remembered how she loved

Rikard Sarris then.


    Her eyes began to mist and tears streaked her face as she ran her index finger across the

image of young Rikard. She remembered how mild and tender he was as a child. She

remembered too the good times they had in the meadows of Spittalfield all those years ago. She

remembered frolicking in the grass with Rikard, the time they spent trying to throw rocks across

the river that ran through the meadows by her father's castle, and she remembered how hurt

Rikard was when she told him she was to be betrothed to Edward Lelani. It was after that that

she first noticed a change in her former friend. He began to withdraw from the things he used to

love. They began to spend less time together. It wasn't long before Rikard stopped seeing her all

together. Anya closed the book and set it aside. She reached over and poured herself another

glass of the wine before turning it up and emptying the glass, seemingly in one swallow. She

laid back upon her bed. Her pillow felt soft and cool upon her cheek. Anya rolled over and

looked up at the red silken canopy of her bed.


    As she lie there, Anya began to remember other goods times she had had with young Rikard

all those years ago. She recalled the time, just before her betrothal to Edward, that she had her

first kiss. Rikard was chasing Anya around the trunk of a gnarled and ancient oak. Round and

round the base of the great deciduous they went, Rikard just behind her. Anya was laughing like

she had not before, or since for that matter. She got dizzy and her side began to ache when he

finally caught her. Rikard lifted her off of the ground and looked deeply into her eyes as he spun

her round and round before falling onto his back in the high grasses of the meadow. Anya lay

there on top of Rikard, breathing deeply and laughing.


      She never quite figured out what had caused her to do it, but at that moment Anya leaned

forward a bit and kissed Rikard full on the lips. They stayed that way for what seemed like an

eternity to her, arms entwined about each other. Rikard then took hold of her shoulders and

threw her off of him onto her back beside him as they laughed again. He climbed atop her then

and began the kiss anew.  When Rikard was done, Anya lay there with his weight fully atop

of her. He pinned her shoulders to the ground with his hands as he stared into her eyes once

more. And then he said it.  It was the only time she could remember that he had ever told her he

loved her. Her heart began to beat ever faster as she realized that she loved him as well. It was

the first time in her young life that she ever felt that emotion for another. At that moment, Anya

would have died, even killed for Rikard Sarris. It was the first time that she felt that way for

another as well.


    They met each other several times over the next couple of months. Each time under the same

humpbacked old oak. Each time they met they kissed, but none as passionate as that first time.

Try as she might, Anya could not rekindle the magic of that first endearing caress of their lips. It

did not upset her, rather it encouraged young Anya to try and duplicate the allurement she felt

then. Rikard Sarris never again told her that he loved her, but she knew that love her he did. She

could see it in his eyes each time they met. The way he looked at her when they were alone

together made her heartbeat quicken its pace until she felt that her heart was trying to beat its

way out of her breast, and each time she felt this Anya was afraid that that was exactly what may

happen. When they weren’t alone, Rkard’s eyes never left her. He would stare at her from across

the table whenever their families happened to dine together. She would always sit across from

him so that she could tease young Rikard from underneath the table. Anya would use a slippered

toe to trace the inside of Rikard’s leg, in the presence of both of their families, in an attempt to

drive the young man mad.


    She would giggle to herself whenever she would notice that Rikard Sarris was trying his best

to ignore the inappropriate advances of his lady love. Each time he would try and strike up a

conversation with someone else seated at the table. And each time Anya would intensify her

teasing. Rikard’s voice would crack from time as he attempted to act as if nothing was going on,

even as his heartbeat quickened its pace and his member lengthened and hardened within his

knitted stockings. Anya knew that Rikard would never get up and leave the table with this bulge

in his tights and she would laugh even harder to herself at the young noble’s predicament.


    The two young lovers never did go any further than this not so innocent teasing of each other.

It would not do for Anya to lose her pristine virginity this close to marrying age. If ever her

father, the Earl of Spittalfield, found out of his young daughter’s indiscretion she knew he would

fly off into one of his famous rages and would be forbidden to see Rikard again. She knew not

what effect this would have on her father’s relationship with the Duke of Norford and she did not

care to find out. So Anya contented herself with her teasing of Rikard and their private times

under that ancient oak that the both of them began to cherish as a symbol of their unfettered

love.


    These old memories warred with the hatred she now felt for Rikard Sarris. She had come to

love Edward Lelani just as strongly as ever she did Rikard Sarris. She began then to recall the

feelings she felt for Edward. Though not as magical as her love for Rikard had been, Anya’s love

of Edward was just as genuine and true. She never felt as happy as she did on the day of her

wedding to Prince Edward. He stood tall and proud in his shimmering plate mail, his long blonde

hair flowing behind him as he stood before her in the candle lit cathedral. She recalled the great

white smile that gleamed from within his long blonde beard. She remembered smiling up at him,

her hands held firmly in his as they repeated their vows of love to each other before the King

and her family.


    An image of an older Rikard’s fiendish grin flashed within her mind and Anya thought of

poor Edward’s death once more. She tried to imagine the pain and the instant of terror he must

have felt as the tip of Rikard’s broadsword pierced his neck, puncturing his carotid artery. She

imagined him dropping his own blade before frantically gripping at his neck as a dark reddish

black ichor spilled down his gleaming breastplate. She pictured her love dropping to his knees as

his life spilled out onto the ground around him before falling backwards onto his back folding his

knees beneath him. The image of a victorious Rikard Sarris standing over her vanquished love, a

cruel smile upon his face, invaded her mind and it was more than she could stand.


    “Damn you to hell, Rikard Sarris!” she yelled at the top of her lungs as she began to sob once

more. Her body began to shake violently in time with her sobs. Her breathing became ragged and

it became hard for catch her breath. She hated when she lost control like this. No one but Rikard

was able to affect her this way and it angered her all the more, giving Anya yet another reason to

hate the mad that had been her first love. She took several deep breaths then in an attempt to

regain her composure, but it did not work. Whenever Anya thought she was finished with her

tears, she would be set upon by a new image of Edward Lelani lying dead upon the battlefield

in a pool of his own blood and her sobs would start anew. She would imagine Rikard Sarris and

his nefarious smile would assault her once more.


    Anya knew not whether she loved or hated the man that had killed her husband in open battle

a decade before. Her emotions fought with her memories of a kinder, gentler Rikard Sarris. She

could not bring herself to forget young Rikard even though she believed it might be best that she

did. She had loved the boy after all, and she would not do a disservice to that memory by

forgetting the good times they had shared in their youth. But each time she remembered happier,

gayer times with the man she would feel the cold stare of her dead Prince Edward as if he were

upset that she dared remember being happy and frolicking around with his killer.


    After a hard fought battle with her emotions, Anya Lelani was finally able to regain her

accustomed cheerful mood. She wiped the tears from her eyes with a kerchief and reached over

to poor herself another glass of the sweet red wine. It would be another wine soaked night of

tears and old memories. Several times Anya had thought to herself that she should be well over

her Edward’s death. She had known woman that had remarried within a matter of months and

shed not another tear for their fallen spouse.


    ‘What was wrong with me?” she had asked herself several times. Why she could not let go of

her slaughtered husband or the memories of a younger Rikard she did not know. Why must she

live in the past? That was yet another question she was unable or unwilling to answer. She had

always been that way. For as long as she could recall, old memories had held power over her

emotions as if they were as fresh as a morning dew upon the grass, and she knew not why. Why

couldn’t she be like all the other women she knew? They were all happy, smiling at her each

time they saw her dark sullen face. Whenever she herself smiled and appeared happy, they knew

not the anguish that hid behind that bright smile, lurking within the dark recesses of her mind

awaiting the proper moment to show themselves to the world and wreak havoc upon Anya and

her feelings.


    At times it was all too much for her and she often tried to drown herself at the bottom of a

bottle of one of her favorite wines. It seemed to her that all that wine would only dull the ache

she felt within her heart for a short while. She would be alright for a couple of days, but old

memories would always creep up on her and assail her from behind and she would have to force

them back to her subconscious with another bottle of fermented grape. Anya poured herself one

more glass and drank it down quickly before exhaustion took her. Anya closed her eyes and

drifted off to sleep with an image of Rikard Sarris’ grinning face engraved deep upon her

slumbering mind.