The Diaries of A Princess

After these horrible events, I feel as though I should write. Perhaps it will be theraputic, perhaps make my recovery smoother. I of course am not speaking about the wounds, those will heal, in time. But more so I am speaking of my mind. I fear for it in these dark days and nights. Sleep elludes me and I am finding myself daydreaming of the most horrific things. Murder, death, blood. Such things should never touch my mind, it is unfit for a woman in my position. But I am drawn to it, like a moth to flame. Such morbid thoughts are growing within me, perhaps spawned by this immence hate I feel. It's like a hungry beast. I hope, that this is mere side effect from the trauma. Afterall, one such as myself, is kept so far away from the harsh reality, of the true beastial nature of people. But I have seen first hand the true horror of the human mind, and I fear the experiance has affected me.

Why, just the other day my dear friend Endyme had come to me, to check on my well being among other things, and ended up freshening my bandages. Something gnashed it's teeth in my mind, when he applied the ointment. The small pain and his hands upon my flesh... it snapped something inside of me. I fear, had I any type of solid object in my hands, I would have killed the poor jester. Thank god he could not see into my mind, to see what horrid thoughts had invaded me and taken hold. I imagined a dagger in his throat, eyes pulled from his sockets, I imagined blood.

I have nightmares, terrible ones, of hands, ripping at me with phantom bodies, without faces. I dream of brands and fire. Of dripping blood. The only thing that has given me any rest is the spiced warm milk my dear Ys had concocted for me. Ys... I am sure he was sent by god to look after me. Such a friend he has been, and I hope will continue to be. He calms me, more than anyone else can. His mere presence quiets my fears and sooths my boiling mind. He is a good man, I am sure of it. I cannot understand how my dear sister could have been so mistrusting of him, almost fearful she seemed! I've not once felt what she had. I see no darkness in him.

Or...
Perhaps that darkness she felt was something else. Something I dare not write down even in my most private of journals. And perhaps... she may have felt that same darkness in me. He is more like me than anyone will ever realize, perhaps that is why he calms me.

I dare not write any further thoughts on dear Ys, I will keep the rest in my head, where no one can ever find it.
I shall end this here, I'm afaid I've been neglecting poor Isotep, even though he has seemed... strange around me lately. Perhaps it is because he senses my dark thoughts.

Surely soon... I will be released from them.

How DARE he!!! I pace as I write this, unable to keep myself still. I cannot help the repeated echoes in my mind. The King... How dare he! It is so hard to put my thoughts on this matter into any kind of order, I am unsure if I can clearly express in words how upset he has made me. How he's stung me to my very core, spurned me! Yes he has SPURNED MY REQUEST. I cannot even look him in the eye without my fists trembling as they clentch tightly, nails digging so roughly into my palms.

I requested Ys be rewarded in some way. Requested that he might be free to walk by my side in the castle, to start.. as I knew Ys' real request would take some finessing and coaxing. But to be free to stay at my side, I in turn could lead him to the library, show him around the castle. It was such a SMALL request.
The King did not even consider my proposal! No thought was given at all before he said no. He and his wife would not even listen to my arguement! Instead they sent me away.

Oh but not before I got such a verbal lashing, right there in front of Garnett and the Queen. It was beyond mortifying, and instead of humbling me I fear it drew out more of that angry flame burning deep inside. I all but yelled in the Kings face! I told him how very much I needed the servant, told him how utterly unfit his healing staff is to handle my... delicate (?) mental state. And he did not care!
More caring he was toward Garnett in her illness! So gentle he was with her. But my mind means nothing. My own illness is but a sidenote.. or perhaps even a lowly footnote... or maybe nothing at all to him.

This favoritism is killing me. Perhaps not me, but my outlook on the Royal household in general. My own husband has yet to visit my bedside. I know he is busy taking up his brother's work while he is away, but even Uhtred made time for Garnett. I cannot understand how he can be so warm and loving, and then disappear.
But.. I digress, Raij is not the topic of my rage.

Garnett has assured me help in writing out a petition to the King, to try my plea once more. Perhaps with her calm hand the words may smooth my own harsh tones.

I find my mind wandering to the stablehand more and more often. Our... how should I put it.... agreement (?) has left me excited and yearning. But I feel it unwise to mention more than this. Let me just say I look foreward to more of our discussions. I have to keep myself from summoning him, but it is becoming increasingly hard, everytime I look down....

Am I becoming so very dependant on him? I feel I need him more and more each day, to keep my sanity. Sometimes every shadow seems to hold all sorts of monsters to me, and other times I feel normal, so much like myself I can almost forget what had happened.

But, I must end this here.. My stitches are itching like grains of sand have been poured down my dress, so I must go and see what the healers can do.

I saw dear Ys last night. It was almost as if I gravitated toward him, in a dreamlike state. I had to get out of the castle, I needed the air. And quite unlike me, I found myself drawn to the stable. I thought, perhaps, it was time to visit my horse. But, instead I found the stablehand in quite a wretched state. The poor man cannot hold his liquor. He had himself a night on the town, and apparently it hadn't agreed with him.

We sat, and shared some exceedingly greasy meat which I'm sure did not do well for his writhing stomach. I have made arrangements though, for a hearty breakfast to be delivered to the stables, for all the servants there to enjoy. He made jest about barfights, booze and women.. and, I felt a strange pang of jealousy. I can only think of two reasons for such... either I envy his ability to do as he pleases... or I envy the women he chases, if he indeed chased any. Such a strange thing to envy, and I cannot fathom why such things would bother me in the least.

He informed me that he was under too many eyes, and for being what he is, I can understand. And in my want to reward him, I put him under the eyes of the King himself. Thusly, I have decided not to write a petition to the King, but instead an apology for my behavior. I will smile, and I will go along with his Decree, even though it pains me to revoke my promise to Ys, I will pretend to everyone else the stablehand means nothing to me. It kills me to do so, but.. it is for the best. It is for... him.

I wish I could understand why I cannot keep away from this man, my new Master, my Teacher, my friend... why for his sake can I not leave him completely... and for my own sake. Such horrible things could happen if our relationship is exposed.... Friendship, if our friendship is exposed. I cannot understand my thoughts, they are like a swirl of mist that I try to grasp, but slip gently through my fingers.
Why does it feel like I am starved for his attentions?

I must stop these thoughts, for they lead to a place I should not venture.

Now where was I? Oh yes.. we talked in the stables for quite sometime, and then I fell asleep with him beside me. I fear it was in mid conversation, for I was there, speaking with him, then nothing.... I opened my eyes to find him still there, my own cheeks wet with tears. I must have had a nightmare. The evening came to a close then, for it turned out I had slept for quite a while.
When I left though, something was tugging at my mind, and it still lingers there.. something about Ys, how he feels? I cannot grasp it... but I am certain, or maybe just hopeful, that he does feel something toward me, what it is though, I still can't catch, am I feeling his friendship.. or...?
Again I need to stop and move on. Thinking on him too long causes my mind to wander into strange territory, territory laced with barbed wire. If am not careful... I shudder to think!

A new topic! Yes... Uhtred has returned, so I hear, with his servant in a most horrible state. I do not know the details, but I am sure I will find out sooner or later. I am sure dear Garnett is positively brimming with happiness, and I almost feel it radiating to me, even though I've yet to see her. I am sure the Kingdom will not see them for days, surely they have locked themselves away in their bedroom.
If only my husband would have done so for me when I returned.


I cannot help but realize Raij's absence more and more... Why can't I miss him? I long for arms around me, I long for a passionate kiss... but why do I feel so cold toward him?

I must end this now, my stitches are to come out today. I think I will celebrate with a new Sari. I will burn in hell before I let those Zealots erase my entire culture from me!

Oh my dear pages. So much has transpired since I last found time to write. I scarcely know where to begin. But, I must be quick about this, 'less my husband find me writting and try to peek upon the space I hide this journal.

He is home. The King had informed me quite belatedly that he had been sent off on assignment. I must say he acted strangely and demanded I bring him any correspondance I recieved. But... I needn't worry about that, for merely a few days later, Ilgnuit returned, and I couldn't be more horrified. I cannot find it within myself to love this man who showers me with his affections, and gifts. Not after I proclaimed my love for Ys.
Yes, dear journal, I told the 'servant' of my love for him, and it was, much to my suprise, returned! It... would be improper of me, to speak of our night together, even within these pages. All I will say, is I find myself dreaming of his teeth and nails, of lips and blood. I must say those are some of the most pleasant dreams I've had, even if they are placed in odd places throughout my nightmares.

And oh how those nightmares have gotten steadily worse since Ilgnuit has returned, and I am forced, once more to spend my nights in our marital bed, with his arms wrapped around me.

I doubt much of the castle is getting good sleep these days. My poor sister Garnett has lost her child. She lays still, in the infirmary. I, thus far, have not found it in myself to venture to her bedside. I am uncertain as to how the sight of her will effect me. For it would not do, should I find myself laughing at Uhtred's misfortune, right there where my sister lay. I am sorry, that my sister had to suffer for it, but overjoyed at the sorrow on the Prince's face and in his screams. It was enough, and I feel his dark deeds, whatever they might have been, to the poor servant Colletta, have been repaid in full. Henceforth, I will try to get back in his good graces.

There is so much more to tell, of Endyme's leaving, of that foolish seamstress giving up her post... and other happenings at the castle. But, I fear to write too much longer. I am sure Ilgnuit will be coming in at any moment from his ride to make his demands of me.
So I must ready myself, physically and mentally for his coming.

This place is so dark, so foul, so... treacherous. I must admit, I have no idea what I'm doing. It can all crumble down so easily now. Oh Garnett, why did you have to call out, why did Isotep have to answer? If I had known, I would have sent him home. Maybe I should still.

Garnett knows nothing and too much all at once. It's maddening, frustrating, and most importantly, it's frightening. But what can I do about it?

And Ilgnuit. His instability is.... too much. He destroyed everything, all my treasures, all my beautiful clothing. The little statue wittled from wood, broken. My paintings. I still cannot pick up my brush, perhaps keeping the images in my head is enough, so that I might not watch them licked and blackened by flame again.

He is more intuitive than I gave him credit for. He found what hurts me. He realized my unwillingness to take this ring from my finger.

But, for the moment, my acting is working. I....

No, I cannot bring myself to write what I coaxed him into doing. Nausea threatens at the mere thought. But it had to be done, for more than one reason.
The Queen is pregnant, the King spoke to me strangely on my feelings toward my husband, his want for a grandchild.... not to mention, my own doings that had to be hidden as a precaution. Oh diary what would I have done if I had found myself with child, yet my martial bed have been so cold?

I could not put him in such danger.

My dreams worry me. There is a strange elation I feel inside those dark, horrible places. I kill. I kill and I care not of the lives, my family. I only want him to take me away.
I wake up ill. Though I've yet to figure out, if I am ill from leaving that place, or ill at my mind conjuring up such horrors.

I need a release soon. I feel it. There is too much, it has been too long. I fear passing any kind of flame, any stove or fireplace, every candle. My skin itches, crawls over my bones.

I need to be free of these eyes... if only for a little while.

I sit, by the small glow of a candle and watch my husband sleep while I ponder what to reveal to my most precious journal. He whispers my name adoringly as he dreams. Perhaps it would be sweet, if mine was the only one he uttered. His subconscious betrays him nightly and his fantasies are read to me by his own lips. Though, I must admit some of his slumbering thoughts amuse me to no end.

The poor dear. So sure he is of his position over me. How little he knows of what's happened during his journey. I'm sure it would all crush him, or send him into a fit of rage that not even Uhtred could compare with on the bloodiest of battlefields. (Of course the stories I've heard of his cruelty toward his enemies could be grossly understated. He is a Valenti, afterall and if the spectre of Tytlin is any window into the bloodline... I shudder to think.)

I thought we had been so careful. But we've been caught. The King must have eyes hidden in every corner of the castle grounds. He knew. His threat still looms over me like a dark cloud. The noose waits, the moment I loose my footing. I doubt even the unforgivable bridge I have crossed will spare me should we be seen together again. I wish I could feel remorse for the step I took. For the people it could crush. But I am selfish. My own skin and the skin of one other are the only things I care for.

Have I really become so shallow? Why can I not feel as I should for playing with other's emotions? Where is my regret, my shame, my sorrow for what I've agreed to persue?

With him gone I feel more of a shell than I ever have. I hate knowing he is so far. It all seems so pointless , but I do the duty he gave me, for I know it is not, and I only hope that he will be proud. I believe I've done well. Perhaps a bit too well. But I cannot help but wonder... could these webs I've woven trap me instead of the flies I seek? I have a lingering fear that he will not forgive me for these things, even if I was merely doing what he asked of me. Perhaps I've gone a step too far.

But what choice did I have?

And should these pages ever be found. All I wish it's reader to understand is this:
All I've done, I've done for him. For us. I'm not sorry for it.
We are blameless.

Time is running short. His rage is a fearsome thing. He's taken me to his lair, deep in the underbelly. I'm surrounded by his creatures as he prepares, spitting fire and breathing brimstone.

It's all come to the boiling point. In the late hours of the night, last evening, the King made me his Queen. In these very caverns, yet miles from this chamber. My love, my darling Ys, my Trylstrian heard it all. His creatures witnessed from the shadows and carried their whispering message to his ears.

It is time to go. He always promised me we would.
His orders have always been to demolish the country, bathe it in blood. But we decided something new. We'd just disappear quietly into the night. A hostage will be taken, and the old King must die so his son can claim the throne. Uhtred can be convinced. He will see we are saving thousands of lives. He will understand. I love them. No matter my darkness, I love the children. Those precious babes. They should have a beautiful future. They should live in safety, always. I cannot say what changed my lovers heart, what urged him to go against his Master, but my soul was brightened by the simple touch of an infant.

I can only hope that they will understand in time, that what we are doing, we do for the future. That the sacrifice that they must pay is only to keep them all from death. To save this country from being consumed in fire. I cannot ask for forgiveness, but I pray for eventual understanding.

But watching him now, I fear.

He has always been the careful sort. But my sudden marriage to the King has thrown him into a feverish madness. He desires me to stay, and wait with his sentries until he returns from his work. But I refuse. I shall go with him to the castle, try to keep his mind clear so that no blood but Wyld--'s is shed.

If I never return for this book, I leave these thoughts:
I pray we succeeded in keeping Nharati from the bloody clutches of Trylstrian's Master. I pray the country finds tolerance for the magical and the Other. I pray they understand that what can be considered an evil act is only for the greater good.

He is a good man, I, a good woman. We've only wanted to live our own way.

-Synaria