Nicai de Guzman's web floordrobe
Queen, courtesan, and patron of the arts
Something inside her stirred.
It was she.
She had been banished to the recesses of the subconscious, and subjected to take the form of a memory.
I will try to forget she existed and start clean, her thoughts.
But after months and months of exile, a wandering prince from a nearby kingdom stumbled upon the grave of the beautiful memory. It was the first day of spring and her guard was down.
The prince, who was pure of heart, did not understand why such beauty was punished. He used his magic to reincarnate the memory that became flesh, and blood, and bones.
“Who are you?” she asked upon awakening.
“I am the one who brought you back to life.” He showed her his magical scepter, still emitting sparks. “And you are?”
She turned away. “You don’t want to know.”
“Oh, but I do,” he said, his voice earnest and full of wanting he never knew before.
She looked at him. “A young prince like yourself shouldn’t know such things…”
“I may be young, but I am not a child anymore,” he said indignantly.
She threw up both hands in resignation. “Hand me a mirror first, so I can see the damage this time,” she said.
He didn’t have a mirror so he unsheathed a dagger from his side. He handed it to her, who surveyed her face from the reflection on the blade.
She did not like what she saw – her face was scarred, her body bloated and bruised. She touched her stomach. It was then she became aware of the patches of dried blood still stuck to her thighs. She frowned.
“This is all her fault. I am hideous.” She threw the dagger to the ground.
The prince only became more fascinated with this inexplicable repulsion. He did not understand her at all. She was flawless, as far as he could tell.
“Forgive me, my lady, if my eyes are deceiving me, but I cannot see anything wrong with you… And who is ‘her’?”
She sighed. “It is from her that you have freed me from. The reason why I was but a dead memory was because of her. I was denied by her, cursed to be forgotten. Now, we look like this.”
He kneeled at her side and took her hand. “There is nothing wrong with you. You are most beautiful, my lady.” He kissed the back of her hand. “I live in a kingdom that practices the holy and enchanted arts. I know of Someone who can heal you. Come, my lady, come with me, and whatever it is you are grieving, you will be relieved.”
She broke free from his grasp. “I thought you released me because you wanted to… Wanted to… You surely have heard stories of me from her, and you searched for my grave, and you brought me back… It’s why you brought me back…”
The prince was surprised. It was as if she could read his heart. When he started his search for the beautiful memory, he didn’t actually think she would come back to life. Now, it was in front of him – rosy flesh and blood red lips, all painfully waiting for his touch.
Her lips quivered. “I exist for it, you see…” She touched his cheek.
No, I can’t let you do that again.
She fought this voice from insider her as her finger traced down his neck, then chest…
“Please… It’s been so long… And I have been held captive, dead, for so long… I need it… Please, young prince, please…” And her finger rested on his shining belt buckle made of pure gold. She could hear him breathe heavily.
“We can’t,” he whispered.
His body was betraying his words, and she took notice of it.
“You want it too,” she said. “Please, let me…”
He thought about protesting some more, but it was too late. She unclasped his belt and unzipped him. Her mouth and her hands. Wet and warm and pleasant friction.
“I’m sorry,” he managed to say. But to whom, he was not sure.
He closed his eyes and felt bliss.