The Death of Jealousy

The Death of Jealousy

Deep in the country was the most noted castle of the land. Its owner, the most handsome prince, would be the first ruler to rule with passion, justice and power, unlike his father, the king, who ruled with cruelty, terror and hate. The prince always visited the peasants of the land. He would make polite conversation and listen to their requests, complaints and comments. The peasants knew him personally and couldn’t wait for the day he took the throne. Not only then would they have a kind, powerful leader, but a compassionate queen to rule with him. The peasants knew the prince was courting a beautiful lady of noble decent. They already considered her their princess, even though the prince had yet to ask her for her hand in marriage. They adored her and prayed futilely she would become their queen. “Princess” Victoria was kind-hearted and intelligent. The peasant children flocked to her like sheep flock to a Shepard. What the peasants didn’t know about Victoria was the true color of her heart. As the saying goes, every rose has its thorn.
A knock on the wooden door to her bedchamber drew Victoria from her trance-like stare. She slowly walked to the door to allow entry to her servant. She listened carefully as he reported his findings.
“My lady Victoria,” he said bowing politely, “I have the information you requested.”
“Proceed,” Victoria responded in a rich voice as cold as ice.
“The prince is preparing a dinner to propose to the woman of his dreams. I don’t know for sure who the woman is.”
“You idiot! The woman of his dreams is me! Who else would he be proposing to?!” Venom dripped from her voice, as she turned on him like a viper.
“Well I have heard, and seen for myself, the prince with another woman. A beautiful lady, with eyes the color of an emerald gem, golden hair that shines like the sunset and her voice! It rings like chimes in a summer breeze.” He said it dreamily, and snapped out of it when he saw the fury burning in Victoria’s eyes. “Just rumors, I’m sure of it, my lady.”
“Very well, now leave me.”
Pacing the floor, thoughts flooded through her mind. Her true love would never do such a thing to her. He loved her and only her. Still, there was a small corner of her heart where a seed of suspicion was planted, and steadily growing. Was this rumor true? There was only one way to find out.
Shadows flickered on wood paneled walls from the fire burning in the great marble fireplace. The butler was hurrying to make sure the grand dining table was set for two. Two pure white candles burned brightly, dripping wax onto the silver holders.
Victoria’s heart leapt, but at the same time froze with fear. Her true love must be preparing a romantic dinner for two, but whether for her or this green-eyed, golden-haired woman she had no idea. Quickly she wound her way through the chilly halls to her bed chamber. She picked out the most flattering dress she owned and checked her long dark curls in the gilded stand mirror. Smiling to herself she adjusted the full skirts of dark green silk and added a silver necklace to draw attention to the low neckline of the dress.
Snow fell gently outside in the failing daylight as Victoria made her way to the dining hall. In the halls, candles lined the wall making pools of light at regular intervals. Her heart raced with ever eager step. Had she been waiting for this moment her whole life, or dreading it? As she rounded a corner her breath caught in her throat at the sight she saw. Through the windows covered lightly in a frost, she saw a dream, a nightmare really. Her love was standing in a courtyard with snow falling all around him. Bathed in silver moonlight he looked so handsome. Gently he laid his lips upon another’s. A girl with golden curls piled on top of her head.
Enraged and heartbroken Victoria did the first thing that came to her mind. She ran to the kitchen and waited patiently for the butler to leave. When he did she took a bottle of poison and carefully poured some in one of the champagne glasses. Victoria made certain the glass was positioned so the golden-haired vixen drank the poison and then hid herself in a shadow in the corner when finished. When the butler took the silver tray with the glasses out to the dining room Victoria quietly made her way to the dining hall door, making certain her skirts didn’t rustle as she did. She opened the door a tiny bit, just enough to watch her true love and the girl toast to their love. With eager eyes Victoria watched the girl drink the poisoned champagne.
Smugly Victoria walked back to her bed chamber to wait. As she sat in a red velvet armchair knitting a pair of winter stockings her servant knocked on the door. Slowly she got up and opened the door, expecting the news of the girl’s death, only to hear the opposite. Her true love had died from a glass of poisoned champagne.
The lone night owl was the only witness, and the bitter wind hid the piercing scream. When the sun rose the next morning lace curtains were blowing in the early morning breeze from the broken window, and blood stained the cold, stone floor.