silk and rabbits

Morning light spills through the windows, pale gold and soft as the silk you saw at the market two days prior. You wonder, briefly, if it is still there and if your mother will let you buy it this time. The Lord’s wedding is less than a week away, and your outfit is still missing that touch of gold the Duke requests of all his attendees. Surely she’ll let you, it’s not as if your family has ever had trouble with coin before. As the General’s firstborn, you have always gotten what you wanted.

Except the Duke’s son.

He was beautiful the day you first saw him, his shoulders broad and set back, chin lifted high as he smiled softly to the many guests of his father’s summer home. You could have sworn his eyes were the clearest blue you had ever seen, and that all the seas and skies would be jealous. He had stolen everyone’s breath - including your’s, cheeks blushing warmly as your eyes met for a fleeting moment before his father directed him toward a Lady from a territory across the bay. Your heart still thundered, though (still thunders to this day), and you couldn’t imagine you were alone in this feeling.

You were fourth in line to meet the Lord, and you could already tell he was tired from putting on a polite face. He was new to this, you had picked up that bit of information from the grapevine. He had been training most his life for battle, not to entertain noble families vying for his hand like hungry hyenas circling in on the lone lion. Their smiles were too wide, their laughter far from anything that could be called sincere.

Little did they know, you were a lion, too. 

You stepped in to take his arm, to stand at his side as if you had always been friends, and you asked him if he would show you the gardens. You had heard they were beautiful this time of the year, and wouldn’t it be nice to escape from the limelight? He looked relieved, and he would thank you quietly as you both stepped away, leaving behind a trail of whispers as the guests watched on.

After that day, after sharing stories and laughter among the roses and daffodils, you two would grow close. You would send letters to each other as fast as the postrider would allow. You shared childhood stories and visions of a better future, then letters that made your skin too warm and your heart race faster and breath catch in your chest, until sincerely becomes with love.

But you already know how this story will go.

For all their love, it is not enough to stop the Duke from marrying away his son to the Lady across the bay. 

You run your fingers over the tear stains that blur his writing as he tells you the tragic fate of your love. How he fought with his father for you, and how he swore he would live a life at sea instead of laying in that stranger’s bed. He tells you that he wants you, and only you, until all the stars fell from the sky.

So you write to me. The Rabbit. You tell me there is no limit to the coin you would pay to ensure you marry your love. Whatever it takes. Your writing is harsh, the elegance lost in your wrath and determination. Not a tear mars the paper. No, you will not cry because you have not lost yet. 

On that golden morning, you find a letter tucked in the flowers along your windowsill. The envelope is sleek and black, and the red wax seal is stamped with the outline of a rabbit with too-long ears. Inside, the paper is neatly folded. The handwriting is elegant, but there is a crude tilt to it, a sharpness that lends itself to a man that is writing for business and not pleasantries. 

Your heart is restless in your chest as you read the contents:

Dear star-crossed lover,

Your wish is my command. You will be with your Lord soon enough.

I have discovered that the foundation of the Lady’s House is an unstable one. They thought a union between their daughter and the Duke’s son would fix it, isn’t that sweet? As if anything could fix such rotten roots. 

By your suggestion, I’ll have those roots revealed on the wedding day. 

It’ll be quite the show, won’t it?

Wear white,

The Rabbit

You hold the letter close to your chest. You care not for what happens to the House that will crumble by your coin. You don’t bat an eyelash at what secrets The Rabbit would reveal. You only latch on to the way your heart thunders again knowing you and your love would have a chance at being together. 

This time, you won’t let him slip away.

Neither will I.