you're too young & eager to love

I tried writing a response to my muffin's timed writing piece, but I only got this far. Which is not nearly far enough. My brain is all cloudy and full of distractions.

Alas. :/


---

The world was rearranged.

You're surprised at how quickly the pieces mold back together, the foundation settling somewhere along the line of your body.




You think you are growing larger and smaller all at once. Now, the courtiers and ladies dip their heads at you when you pass. Now, a trail of whispers follow in your wake, rustling across the stone floor like the silk of your skirts. Now, you sit beside the Queen Mother in the Great Hall when the court dines together, her wrinkled hand close to yours on the respective arms of your chairs. But for all the largeness of your presence, even the gaudiness of it, you sometimes feel invisible. The King has given you three of your own ladies in waiting, as though you were his Queen instead of his mistress, but they never meet your gaze. Not when tightening or loosening your stomacher. Not when brushing your hair. Not when you return from Renan's bed, or he slips from yours, and the silence of their nearby bodies and blind stares deafen you. Then there are the men at court. The wolves who admire your beauty, your name, your father's growing estates. But none of them ask to lead you in a dance. None of them walk with you through the gardens. None of them ask for a piece of your favor.

To be raised so high but feel lower than ever before. This contradictory state of being troubles you. Your waist is shrinking.

In smaller but acutely noticeable ways, the terrain of your life had shifted too.




Gerhard used to pass you from courtier to courtier, trusting in your return and their careful handling. You were precious, a gem to be admired but not taken. He had liked it even, watching you duck under their arms, turn between their palms, dancing as elegantly and easily a swan swims. Your laughter had been the loudest on those nights, with wine on your tongue and holding the eyes of so many.

But then court life had always agreed with you. You were modest without being a prude; smart without being threatening; useful as one of the Queen Mother's Ladies. If you were flawed, it was only on account of your father's ambition.




Gerhard was closer to you now than he had been in weeks. The smell of him filled your tight ribcage with feelings oddly shaped and too large to fit inside. You dipped into a curtsy so low and poised, you were startled you did not fall. "My lord."