Princess Hilda's Chambers

With a mournful sigh, Hilda fell to seat herself in a pitiful mess of silk, cotton and ribbons. Her sharp eyes were red from her morning of righteous sobs and her hands and arms throbbed from the continual beating she had given her bed mattress and chair. Wearily she pushed the heavy red and pink pillows from the divan and laid back, flat against the spongy surface.

She wanted to die; to crush the miserable existence she was forced to endure at the hand, or lack thereof, of him. Not even in her thoughts would she admit he was her husband... her supposed heart's holder and other half. Scoffing, she rolled her eyes. He wasn't even a smallest fraction hers. How many women did she "share" him with? Sharing was hardly correct since he hadn't so much as touched her in... tears filled her dark eyes. She couldn't even remember the last time.

A sudden shriek of anger erupted from her lips and she seized one of the fallen pillows and flung it with all her might at a nearby table and its delicate vase. The shattering tinkle of the shards of glass did nothing to fill the hollow that threatened to engulf her. Why could Theseus have not been like his brother? Hadn't they had the same father? The same mother? The same teachings? The same damned chance?! But no, she watched as Cassandra, her sister-in-law, basked in Oberon's constant affection, while she was Theseus' nag; his occasional wince of a remembrance.

Two beautiful children laughed and played with Oberon and Cassandra. Dead silence haunted Hilda by the many crushed dreams of her weary broken void. She didn't even know if Theseus cared they had no children... did not want to know if he cared. What did it matter? If the man did not love her and she surely hated him; what joy could a child bring them?

But she knew better. Raging sobs shook her body and she hugged her knees to her chest. This was not how she had been destined to live. She was the daughter of a king... she was beautiful... she was intelligent... and yet she was forgotten, childless and unloved. From her earliest memory, seated on her mother's lap, Hilda had been sculpted into the knowledge that she was flawless, faultless and any one who did not see those facts was idiotic at best. Now, she no longer held her parents' teachings to her heart.

Flawless? When not even the man tied to her for all eternity could stand her any word...
Faultless? When she only a single ladies maid who dared even try to befriend her, due to her mood swings and continual anger.
Truly her husband's family were all idiots... but so was she and she knew it.

She hated Theseus for the way he was and the way he had no plans to ever change. Hated Oberon for his opposite nature of his brother and his love of his own bride, while she was forgotten within the rooms of his castle... just his brother's worthless wife. Hated Cassandra for her children and for her husband... for her sweet nature and damnable innocence. Had hated Wodon for his laughing at her moods and anger. And though she'd tried to hate Genevieve as well, had soon found the woman too cold and indifferent to waste much emotion on.

Another pillow sailed into yet another vase. Leaving the divan for the cooler breeze of the balcony, Hilda all by threw herself over its edge as she leaned against the smooth stone. Suicide never entered her mind; other than in poetic passions to be rid of her sorrow. A lone dove cooed softly in its cage hanging beside where she stood and she looked up at it with watery eyes.

It sat trapped within its cage... much as she felt. In a sudden attempt to bring meaning to her life, she opened the cage's wooden door. Beady eyes blinked at her as she gently pulled the dove out of its prison. Reaching her arms out over the edge of the balcony, she smiled softly and threw it up into the air. Delight filled her as if caught itself and flew high into the gentle breeze.

Theseus stood rather awkwardly in front of his wife's chambers, his hands enclosed around a bouquet of magnolias and a small box containing an amethyst necklace he had had made especially for her; magnolias being her favorite flower, and amethyst being her favorite gem. Yes, despite the years of fighting and clashing with Hilda, he still remembered his wife's favorite items.

... Ok, so he paid one of her ladies in waiting to indulge him in some information he should have known back in the days of his courtship, but t'was the same thing, wasn't it? In some form or another?

He sighed in defeat, shaking the notion out of his mind. Of course it wasn't the same thing. He never actually cared to find out anything at all about his wife. Hell, he didn't even know what her favorite color was! It was rather appalling and shameful to know that he knew the smallest details of nearly every noble woman in the castle, and yet his wife of quite a few years was a complete, utter mystery indeed.

The blow from Lani was what had started it all. Granted, he was an utter hypocrite in getting upset, but... still. It hurt nonetheless, for he wasn't used to being displaced like that by a woman at all. But yet... a small part of Theseus was almost... glad... that it had occurred. Almost. Though it was a blow to both his heart and ego to have a woman he cared so deeply about take on another man aside from him, it helped him realize that the same feelings he was facing on this matter, were once his wife had felt for him for the Gods only knew exactly how many years.

Their relationship had been, from the start, in his mind, one of mutual loathing. It seemed to the Prince that neither cared nor held any affection, and it was just something that happened, unfortunately, in some royal marriages as a result of being arranged by others. With this belief indoctrinated into his mind, Theseus made no effort to be with Hilda in any sense, nor even hold a civil conversation with her. In some cases, he even went so far as to show off, flashing around with his Mistress of the week, right in front of her, convinced that she most likely had her own affairs as well.

Apparently, he was rather wrong in that assumption, if what he had heard through his sources about his wife’s true emotional state ran true.

While he and Hilda had never really shared any quarters together, Theseus didn't quite think about knocking before he entered, and instead just slowly opened the door and slid right in. Blue eyes gazed around in confusion and shock at the broken vases and chaos the room seemed to have been in. Instinctively, he raced inside; worried that something may have happened. While he oft presented to the world the idea that he cared little for his wife, he certainly did not want any harm or danger to befall upon her!

"Hilda?" he called out, with worry etched into his voice as he raced further inside, gifts still firmly in hand. His heart pounded with fear and worry as he scanned for his wife's form, convinced that some sort of attack must have occurred. Only when he saw his wife standing upon the balcony did he breath a sigh of relief and begin to calm down. Taking a moment to straighten himself, his appearance, and the gifts he brought, he slowly approached the balcony as to not startle Hilda. "Hilda? D-Does everything fare well?"

"Hilda?..." The owner of said name looked up sharply from where she had rested it against the stone balcony. Despite her hatred for him, she knew his voice. It caressed her every night in her sleep, gently saying sweet nonsense to her only for her waking moments to return it to its faded scowl and rolling eyes... What was he doing here?

Molten rage leapt to life within her eyes and she turned slowly at his question that nervously followed her name. No everything was not well... and for a moment she opened her mouth to tell him as much and more. The sweet scent of her favourite blossom filled her senses and she froze, feeling as if the breath had been knocked from her body.

Swallowing thickly, she lifted her red-rimmed eyes from the clutched bouquet until they met his blue eyes. Eyes that she had often wishes to see pointed at her full of affection and had more times than countable found leveled at another object of his passion. Her question changed subtly within her mind; confusion mounting a stallion of sheer bewilderment. Why was he here?

Straightening to her full height and gently brushing out the crumpled front of her gown. Her hair subconsciously came to mind and she blushed red as she imagined how disorderly it must appear and of all times. Hilda hated to look anything but put together and furious about Theseus. Giving him no foothold against her.

"Why are you here?" she asked, her voice hoarse from her long morning.

Theseus arched in eyebrow in response to his wife's appearance. From what he could see, all was well and Hilda didn't appear to be injured, for which Theseus was relieved for. She did, however, seem upset with red-rimmed eyes and a slightly disheveled appearance. The Prince couldn't help but blink in reponse to the blush appearing upon Hilda. He had never seen such as gesture emitted from her, and couldn't help but admit that it was rather... cute... in it's own way. In his humble opinion, it suited her much more than the scowl or glare that he was used to seeing from her.

"Erm, why am I here? Well, er, that's a rather good question..." he replied with slight nervousness, feeling more and more cretinous by the minute, something he hated to present, particularly in front of Hilda, for fear she would use it as leverage against him.

"I-I brought you something. A gift." he replied with a small smile reflecting his slight trepidation. "From me!" he hastily added, not wanting Hilda to think he was no more than a messenger boy. "I, er, hope you like it." he uttered as he handed her the flowers, as well as the small box.

What a sight this was indeed: Theseus, a Prince well-known for his flirtatious nature, nervous by the simple act of giving a gift to one. To his wife of all people! Had he not felt so awkward and nervous, he would surely have laughed.

"Prithee. Forgive me for intruding, but... Has thou been crying?" he asked as he gently placed his hand under her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his so that he may examine her orbs even closer.


((Necklace))

Theseus' subtle but reaction nonetheless to her appearance sharply cut into Hilda's sore heart. How dare he sweep in from his women and pass judgement on her! Tears sprang unbidden, unwanted to her already red eyes and only her short nails, digging into her palms kept them at bay.

He was nervous, she noted with satisfaction. Somehow it was fitting that he was nearly trembling in her presence. A smirk lit her sharp features, prepared to enjoy the following moment.

"A gift?" it came out more softly than she had intended, mainly because she was suddenly shocked that he had intended to give them to her and not to some flouncy favourite of the day or week. She stiffly took the flowers, raising her eyebrow and trying to ignore their lovely scent. Oh how she loved them; but she'd die before admitting that to Theseus... he didn't deserve anything but a scowl from her. It turned out less hurtful than she had intended... but she was too intent in slowly peeking into the box.

The shining necklace held within caused her mouth to open slightly, pure rapture lit her eyes as she noted the perfect design and the gem nestled to hang beneath the silver design. Amethyst... how had he known? Magnolias? She could not remember him ever asking her anything about her desires, passions or likes...

His almost caring question caught her off guard and she looked up from the box with an almost dazed expression lost in her eyes. Had he honestly asked her a personal question? Not, "Why can't you leave me alone?" or some other one on her nagging or jealously... but one about her personal self... her life. Her eyes pinned against his chest, she sought an answer. His gentle hand touched her chin, even as the last syllable of the never before heard question rang through her ears. Looking into azure... suddenly swallowed by his intoxicating scent and his close presence; she could only stare.

"Thy affections cause my tears." she whispered. And her hatred continued, despite her desire for him.

Theseus nodded silently, his nervous gaze fixed upon her as she slowly opened the gift. It had taken him quite a bit of time to decide upon a design for the jeweler to craft, and he was rather happy with it, but he still was nervous, unsure of Hilda's reaction to it, for truth be told they knew little about each other.

He blinked several times to ensure that he was seeing things correctly. Was that... happiness... in her orbs? What an interesting change, indeed! Particularly since more often than not, her eyes were narrowed to slits. The apparent approval from Hilda caused Theseus' nerves to calm as he slowly relaxed into a moment, getting more comfortable, and doing what he did best: win a woman over. Granted, it was a woman he should have wooed and won over long ago, but it was better late than never, right?

"D-Do you like it?" he asked tentatively, a warm smile beginning to grow upon his face.

He loved the way she was gazing upon him. It was thrilling to have a woman gaze at him, with such intensity, as though they weren't merely gazing into azure, but the very depths of his soul as well. Particularly since most of the females he had "relationships" with seemed to stare at only one thing in particular: his coin-pocket.

Yet, just as much as he loved her gaze, for the very same reasons he adored it, he also hated it. He hated the vulnerability he felt under his smoldering gaze. He hated feeling as though she could see everything within him: his fears, his hopes, his dreams. He hated standing here before her, utterly bewitched by just a look of her eyes.

He adored and hated being her prisoner, and at her mercy.

Eyebrows furrowed in concern at words as he absentmindedly shifted the hand holding her chin towards her cheek, caressing it softly. "My affections? Prithee, my lady... If ever I cause you anger or pain, I ask for your pardon and atonement, to endeavor to correct my wrongs..." he whispered in a daze, as though under a spell. Her spell, to be exact.

He knew it was dangerous, volatile, to continue to stare into her eyes, yet he couldn't bring himself to pull away. She was his siren, lulling him with a graceful melody into his doom.

And yet, despite the inevitable demise, thrill still surged within him, just as it had for the sailors who fell at the hands of the mystical creatures, for they had died whole and more than content, feasting on what nourished and destroyed them.

May the Gods have mercy on him indeed.

She felt like a child, having fallen into a bottom-less pit of the bluest lapping waves. Her legs trembled slightly as if straining to reach a floor that had vanished and her fingers seemed to seek an edge to smooth to lift her from the drowning flood of emotions. Why his question, stated so timidly caused such feelings, was lost to her. She adored the feeling of being lost in him...

"I...do." she whispered, wishing she could say more; or less. Something more worthy or more right. Part of her suddenly desired to retract from him, hit his divine eyes with the sweet blossoms and flee his presence... Anywhere away from him; anything but his hand touching her. But she stayed, as if wooden twines had suddenly mounted her feet to the floor... a floor that had only just appeared.

The smile was worse than his eyes, sending shocks of liquid fire along her stiff spine. The already bewitching eyes that captivated her now glowed from his pools of sight. Had he always been this way? To the others... she tried to look away, as if dazzled by the light of the noon sun. At least its light would have blinded her; to save her form future glances... but it was just like Theseus, radiant, but not to the point it robbed one of the pleasure of seeing him.

Did he know how easily she became his possession? How simply a single word left her panting for more; how his very breath against her skin left ecstasy from an uncharted land into reality. She watched his eyebrows tighten as closely as she still watched his eyes; anxious to hear what he would say in regards to her earlier words. How would her painful honesty strike him...

Of all the millions of lines that she thought might come from his soft lips; the apologetic humble ones she heard left her more fully lost than even his eyes had. The floor vanished as quickly as it had come and she leaned against him, savoring the subtle heat of his hand caressing her cheek. Her pardon... he had begged for her forgiveness.

Hilda blinked, surely any moment she would awaken to the sun's beams winking through the draperies at her. Theseus would vanish as the dew from the morning's lawn and all would fade... But despite her blinks and the sound of her own heart thudding within her bosom; all remained.

Hating herself suddenly ten-fold what she hated him; she reached up and touched his gentle stubbled cheek. Surely someone must have warned his parents, that they had had a demon's child instead of their flesh and blood. No doubt the true Theseus was slumbering within the isles of hades while this incarnation of him played with her heart and soul... leading her to its fiery home and away from the purity of truth.

Her lips followed the hand, crushing against his with all the banished passion that she had formerly used to berate, scream and curse him... Arms, once like lead now moved to wrap around his neck and she gave herself into the demon and into the drowning pool.

Hearing Hilda's approval at his gift caused a rush of pure unadulterated happiness and relief to course through him. He had made her happy. This indescribable, uniquely powerful creature he had married long ago yet never truly noticed nor appreciated until this very moment... for once he brought her delight instead of misery! There were no words to describe how he felt... It was as though he was Hercules, a hero who had just accomplished a seemingly impossible task. However, in this modification, the glory he felt was the fact that his wife no longer loathed him, and the crowds cheering him on were her whispers of happiness: cheers that, to him, stood far superior to any mass of a crowd ever to be conjured.

Maybe he and Hilda couldn't get along. Perhaps they were incompatible. However, as he stared into her deep orbs, venturing into a land of no return, he realized with blinding clarity that he would rather be with her, trapped in the Hells of hearts full of fire, rather than alone, in the icy terrain of emptiness.

This was something new, something different. Hilda wasn't like the other woman he had fancied and revolved around for years. Too many years, he soon surmised. She was different. She was a challenge. She didn't put out immediately, falling at her hands and feet in an effort to please him and gain some reward from him. After all, what other reward did he have that he could offer her? After all, they were already married. No, Hilda was a paradox; a challenge. With every gesture, touch, and word, he ventured onward with bated breath, unsure of what to expect on how she would react. This was the fun. This was the thrill. This was Hilda, and the dance they had perfected.

Her touch healed, yet scorched and burn, feasting on his sin-ridden flesh. It pained him, like thousands of needles showered upon a cowering form, salt poured against open, bleeding wounds. Yet... it was thrilling. Hilda was thrilling. Actually, scratch that, she was addicting.

He wanted more. He needed more.

As their lips met, he was sure he was walking barefoot through the gates of Hell, into the heart of the underworld, drowning, consumed by all that was Hilda. Every inch of body felt as though it were on fire, leaving him yearning, almost pleading, for more. He wrapped his arms tightly around her slender form and deepened the kiss; feeling as though he was tangling with the enemy, yet was filled with a sense of homecoming he couldn't quite explain. Was this it? All that he had been missing these past few years?

Perhaps he couldn't go back in time to change everything, but he sure as hell could make up for it. Right then and there, he swore to himself, to Hilda, to the Gods, on his own, perhaps not so precious and innocent soul that he would do all he could to right his wrongs.