The Death of Hector.

On the outskirts of the city our hero is brought home

Cold, lifeless, and deformed.

They sing for him the tunes of grief

Of a dearly departed and beloved long gone.

Their voices pierce through the silence and cuts through

Each soul of mortal flesh.

The grief and sadness envelopes the city

And the songs carried by their tunes sing of

Love and hearts torn to pieces.

Of hope flying through the windows and into the abyss.

Yet, in the high castle our hero’s wife remains in oblivion.

She stirs the hot baths and breathes in the scented oils

She grips through the bath salts and hums a tune of solace

Oh happy days when her husband would hold her in his strong arms

And no danger of the world could possibly rip her away

For she was protected in his arms

Of his loving arms

She inhales the moist airs and lets out a contented sigh.

Soon he will be home and she will rush to his side

Place her soft palms against his rugged face,

Kiss him softly and his war-ridden paws would rise to her slender waist.

 He pulls her close.

The bath is ready and our princess stands to exit the bath chambers

But the doors are opening.

Her eyes flutter to see who enters

Her heart jumps in hopes it is the return of her beloved.

A smile creeps up to her face and joy rises in her spine.

But she who enters is the chambermaid.

“My Lady,” her words meaning nothing, but her tone giving away everything.

The bath salts scatter to the floor as our princess’ hand flies to grip the edge of the bath.

The chambermaid stands at the door

No words escape her

No words need to.

Our princess and the chambermaid hold each other’s gaze for a moment.

The princess searching for that tinge of hope that it is not what it is

The chambermaid at a loss for words

But the truth need not be spoken.

For death hung in her eyes.

The death of a great hero.

Our princess tries to breathe deep

She tries to steady her breath

Her eyes start to swell and her mouth opens,

But no words come out

Just another second, please.

Just one more.

She begs to the air as she tries to gather her will.

The chambermaid, her face as white and frozen as ice

She knows.

She allows her Lady to have one moment.

One more precious moment

 To be in that world.

One where she did not have to be afraid

One where she had a loving husband to await for

One where there was hope of his return.

Our princess can hold her tears back no more.

Hot tears roll down her beautiful cheeks

As the words sink in.

I am a widow now.

My husband has died at war.

My children will no longer have a father.

My chambers will no longer have company.

No words are spoken.

And no words need be said.