The festivities following the ceremony were light hearty and full of enjoyment. Lancel and Elra sit at the top of an enormous table like royalty. Ser Gaston’s hall was transformed for the occasion. Flowers and richly colored tapestries adorned every inch of the gray stone walls. Musicians seemed to be stationed at every adjoining table as guests laughed and danced merrily to their melodic tunes. The smell of delicious rich food engulfed the air, adding to the halls already welcoming atmosphere.

Amalya sits to the far right of her sister, only to be out seated by her brother and grandfather. Arthur was moving about the floor, dancing with a number of Elra’s flowery friends and some other newly met maidens. He looks as if he was enjoying himself. One thing was for certain; he looked quite the catch. Amalya sits quietly observing the show. Her grandfather shoves a leg of lamb into his mouth. His appetite far exceeds any need to socialize. He swallows his mouthful and looks over at Amalya, “You will be married off before you know it.” Amalya smiles and shakes her head, “I don’t think marriage is for me.” Horace wipes his mouth off with an orange colored napkin, “That’s what your mother said to me when she was your age.” He leans in closer towards her,” You’ll know…when you find that someone.”

“How will I know?”

“Your heart just tells you. It happened to your mum and it happened to me.”

“Mother really loved father that much?”

He leans away from her as if he were unsure how to answer her question. He picks up his wine glass and takes a calm gulp of its rich tasty contents, “ I’d be lying if I said yes to that.” He places the glass back on the table, “But I will tell you this…”

“What’s that?”

“She sure loved you.”

Amalya is caught off guard by his words. Her eyes instantly well up with tears. Horace smiles at her and touches her cheek, “I know she’d be proud of you, of all you kids. I know I am.”

Amalya kisses her grandfathers cheek and smiles. She loved him so. He may have been hard and sometimes disconnected but who wouldn’t be with everything life has thrown at him. He was old and didn’t deserve to take on 3 young children when Father left, but he did and with great strides. He was so much more to her then he knew. She hopes one day she could tell him so; when he needed to hear it most. Amalya turns towards the floor once again. Elra and Lancel dance merrily together. She still brandished the same cheeky smile she’s displayed since the wedding ceremony. Amalya was happy for her, happy that the day was hers and there was no chance of anything spoiling it for her.

The day drifts on and night slowly creeping upon them. All the feasting and dancing was beginning to dissipate as the light from the sun begins to hide for the night. Arthur once again sits in his seat, almost completely swimming in wine. He was not a normal drinker so all the rich wine coursing through his veins were having a debilitating effect on him. It was an interesting site, one that probably would not be seen again until the next wedding. Arthurs’ head nods up and down as he tries to shake his weariness. Without warning, a hand extends in front of Amalya’s face. She turns around to see Lancel smiling with his perfect teeth, “Would you care to dance?” Words would not escape her. This was the last thing she wanted to happen. She politely shakes her head in protest, hoping he would not ask her again. Lancel recoils his hand in disappointment but before he can fully withdraw it, Elra takes her rightful place at his side, “Keep him busy for me Amalya, I need a break.”

Amalya looks at Elra, hoping against hope that she would change her mind but Elra did nothing but smile at her, clearly lost in the merriment of the day’s events. Elra makes her way to her seat, giving Arthur a restless shake as she passes him. Lancel extends his hand again and Amalya reluctantly takes it. She stands up as he leads her to the floor that was still adorned by the day’s guests. Lancel places a hand at her waist and the other tightly on to her own. Amalya struggles to find her place. She has never officially danced with anyone before, besides some innocent fun she put together with Arthur when they were children. Lancel proceeds to lead her as the music guides their steps.

Finding a way to distract herself from Lancel was not hard. Amalya’s eyes never left her feet for fear she might step on his toes. She was so uncomfortable it must have been blatantly obvious. She could hear him snicker playfully at her uncertainty and slows his pace, “Just go with the flow. Listen to the music and let it lift you off your feet.” Amalya takes his advice and tries to relax. She lifts her head and begins to enjoy herself. She almost forgot why she had grown so suspicious of him in the first place. Perhaps her mind was just getting the better of her. She knew that Lancel loved her sister. Lancel twirls her around the dance floor as joyful laughter escapes Amalya’s lips. After the song ended, there was a brief applause before the next begins to play. This tempo was a lot slower. Lancel pulls her closer to him.

Now that they were closer, she was beginning to grow more nervous, not only because of who he was but because it was so unfamiliar. Besides the closeness of their bodies, Lancel wasn’t showing any signs of peculiarity. Amalya tries to slow down her breathing, “Just get through the song; that’s all you have to do.” Not a word was spoken between them and, after a few moments, Amalya begins to relax once again. Lancel notices the tension in her movements dissipate. He smiles, “All better then?” Amalya nods her head as they continue to move amongst the other dancers. Lancel moves his hands gently against her back, “You’re a very mysterious girl Amalya.”

Not knowing how to respond, Amalya continues to float along hoping her silence would end the conversation. He did not seem to notice or just did not care if she had a thought in the matter at all, “You’re like a shadow, always tracing every step taken by others but too afraid to take your own.”

“It’s not fear that prevents me, it’s opportunity.”

“There is nothing wrong with being afraid. Everyone is afraid of something.”

Thier previous conversations before that day were few, but since he’s adopted the habit, only riddles seem to sprout from his mouth. The music begins to wind down indicating the song was playing through its last notes. Amalya waits patiently for the moment she would be able to break away.

“I do not know what you mean.”

“ Maybe so.”

The music stops and Amalya immediately pulls away. She looks at Lancel with cold eyes. He bows gracefully to her, thanking her for the lovely dance. Amalya peers up at Elra, who watches them intently. Although her only wish was to run away from him, Amalya curtseys back. As quick as a rabbit, she turns and walks away. Racing by the frothed and whimsy guests, she makes her way out of the hall and into the kitchen. Her pace quickens as she brushes past the cooks and cleaners scraping away the last of the uneaten delicacies. She needed to get as far away from him as possible. His cryptic suggestions and uncomfortable demeanor were troubling and the last thing she wanted was to become angry. “Not today…of all days not this day. I promised I wouldn’t.”

She moves from stone floors to the soft grass of the garden. Amalya stops and looks up at the calmly setting light. Her eyes absorb the last fruitful rays it has to offer before it hides away from the sky. Her thoughts travel to her father. He was out there somewhere; on a mission he felt was the only thing left he had to fight for. She wishes she were with him, helping him in whatever way she could. The last rays of light fade behind the River Thane. Amalya closes her eyes tight, hoping she could remember what her father looked like. It was harder and harder to remember him every day. The only thing she could remember was how sad he looked when he left…how much pain he held behind his eyes.

She hears a rustling behind her. Slowly, she turns to see a very desperate looking Lancel. His breath is labored as if he had just run all the way from Castle Joro. Amalya stares at him cautiously, “What do you want?” He wastes no time in approaching her. Amalya backs away, trying to keep a fair distance between them. His mouth opens but no words come out. Amalya waits for something to happen. ‘He’s completely lost his mind. ‘ His lips move but cannot find what to day. Amalya begins to grow impatient. She peers at the door behind him, her only means of escape. She backs away a bit more, trying to establish a safe route around him.

“If you’re just going to stand there, I think I’ll be going then.”

She skirts to the side and tries to slip past him. Unfortunately, she was not quick enough. Lancel grabs her shoulders and pulls her in front of him, “Wait a moment…” She tries to look away. What did she do to stir him up so much? He was mad. His eyes just stare back at her, capturing her like she was a rare and priceless jewel. He slowly begins to utter a few choice words,

“You’re beautiful you know that?”

“What? Let me go!”

“You…your face it’s…perfect.”

He reaches out his and lightly touches her skin. Amalya pushes his hand away, breaking his hold on her. His hand remains limp in the air, stunned by her touch,

“Your hair…”

He reaches over to her, her hood falls against her shoulders. Amalya swats him away again like a pesky fly but he grabs her arm and pulls his fingers through her red locks,

“Like silk…like the finest silk…”

Without hesitation, Amalya brings her foot down on toes. He cowers at the brief shot of pain, giving her enough time to loosen his hold.

“Leave me alone!”

She makes for the door, now unblocked and free for her to access. Lancel recovers from his injury and belts into the night air, “Of course…but it can’t be...” Amalya stops in her tracks and wheels around to face him, “What in Marin’s name are you babbling about?”

“You’re too perfect, you’re skin, hair…even your eyes…how could I not have noticed them before?”

“You’ve lost your mind Lancel.”

“I was too preoccupied with your sister, to blind to notice. You were just unnoticeable. Always wrapped tightly away. It’s as if they were trying to hide you.”

His face flashes with a sudden realization. Amalya backs away towards the door. Her hands fiddle with the knob but to her dismay, it wouldn’t open. She pulls on the handle, pressing up against the door in desperation. Her head turns towards her locked escape. “Why won’t it open?” She begins to vigorously bang at the door, hoping that someone inside would hear her and let her in. She hears movement on the other side. Amalya presses her ear against the door. The footsteps of several people are muffled although sound as if they are coming closer.

Suddenly, without any warning, Amalya has pulled away with a jerk. She wheels around so quickly that she cannot even focus. Lancel kisses her square on the mouth. Amalya feels his wet tongue try to pry open her lips. She tries to pull away but his arms surround her like an iron cage. She hears the door begin to tremble. Desperate to get away from her attacker, Amalya opens her mouth and allow his tongue to enter her trap. As hard as she can, she bites down on his wriggly appendage. Lancel screams in her face and pushes her right into the door. She falls back, blood trickling down her face. Lancel holds his mouth tightly, reeling in pain as blood squirts onto the nicely kept grass. Amalya watches him as she carelessly spits out a chunk of his tongue.

The door opens. Amalya turns to see a few unfamiliar faces poke out and look down at her. They look horrified as they see her sitting on the ground with blood trailing down her mouth. Amalya’s heart stops, “This does not look good.” They quickly catch sight of a reeling Lancel, still clutching on to his injured pride. They quickly run over to him, proclaiming bloody murder as they try to help him relax. Amalya just watches for a moment. She is frozen in time; her movements seem to escape her as her thoughts wander to what would come of this. One man kneels down beside her, “Are you alright?”

Amalya stands up quickly and runs inside. She races through the kitchen and into a small washroom. She closes the door behind her and quickly dips her blood-drenched hands into the water bowl. The blood begins to run into the water, turning its color from unbreakably clear to a pale red. She scrubs at her face, watching the tainted water fall from her cheeks into the bowl. The noises outside the door were faint; hopefully, no one saw her come in here. Amalya stands silently listening for the reality to set in. She closes her eyes tight hoping that when she opened them again, it would all go away, “This is just a dream…just some crazy irrational dream…”

An angry knock echoes from outside the door. Amalya opens her eyes, dreading the inevitable. A moment of silence breaks slowly over the room. Amalya’s heart begins to beat faster. A sudden voice cautiously addresses her, “Amalya? Are you in there?”

It was Arthur. She immediately feels a bit more relaxed, although it is short lived. The moment she steps outside that door, there would be no mercy for her. No one would believe a word of what really happened. She honestly wished she had not done it, but she could not let it happen…it wasn’t right for it to happen. She opens her mouth and utters a few quiet words,

“I’m here.”

“ You need to come out now.”

“I…I won’t.”

“Amalya…”

She leans against the door and sinks down to the floor. She can feel hot tears of frustration leak from her eyes. They fall down her face, catching the last remnants of dried blood as they fall to the floor. She presses her hands against the hard surface of the door, “No one will believe me…no one will want to believe me.”

“You have to come out.”

“Why should I? I didn’t mean to do it! He was rambling on about something…I tried to get away from him!”

Her tears were uncontrollable now. Amalya wipes her wet face on the already sullied sleeve of her dress. She sits and cries in silence for what felt like hours. Finally, Arthur speaks up, “I believe you…”

Amalya sits in silence and looks up at the door, “You believe me?”

“Of course I do.”

Amalya slowly reaches up and opens the door. Arthur stands in front of it, looking quite calm and reassuring. He looks at her and bends down, studying her blood stained face. He wipes some dull red tears from her chin and smiles, “You’re quite a mess aren’t you?” Her face brightens up. She smiles lightly before once again succumbing to the dread that awaits her. Arthur takes her hand, “Come on up then.”

She stands up with him and tries to regain her composure. Arthur waits patiently as she wipes away the last of her tears. She takes in a deep breath and holds it in. Arthur watches her, “The sooner you face her the better…”

Amalya lets her breath escape her lungs, “I know, I know. I just wish she would believe me.”

“Do not always assume the worst with her.”

Arthur gives her a reassuring smile and the two siblings walk back down the hallway.

They walk into a small drawing room, about the size of their family kitchen. Lancel sits in a chair hunched over, his mouth stuffed with a cloth stained red. Elra crouches in front of him, as any concerned wife should. To her left stands their grandfather and Lancel’s parents. When the two enter the room, all heads turn to them. Lancel’s eyes fall directly on Amalya. He attempts to sit up, mumbling some nonsense through his corked up mouth. Elra beckons him to sit down as she stands up. Her posture erect, she turns towards her sister, a look of utter contempt plastered across her face. Amalya waits for her to bring the lower the axe to her head. Elra’s eyes narrow into slits, Amalya braces herself for whatever words erupt from her mouth, “You could not give me one day…MY ONE DAY!”

Amalya hangs her head, “Elra, I didn’t mean for…”

“Nothing you say could possibly make this situation better! NOTHING!”

Arthur joins Amalya’s side, “Just hear her out…”

Elra shakes her head and steps back, “Don’t even try to defend her Arthur, don’t you dare…”

Lancel’s mother walks up to Elra and places her hands on her shoulders, “There must be a reasonable explanation for this. She’s not a bad child.”

“You don’t know her…you don’t have to live with her every day.”

Horace grunts and clears his throat, “That’s enough Elra; let her say what she needs to say.”

Lancel spits out the stuffing from his mouth and points an accusing finger at Amalya, “Tha…tha Amalyammal lnged at’ me…I didnoo wnt to hrm hr…”

Amalya bites her tongue to stop herself from laughing. He sounded like an utter buffoon. Elra touches Lancel and he sits back down, “You think this is funny don’t you?”

Amalya shakes her head, trying not to smile, “No! It’s just…ridiculous.”

“What is so ridiculous?”

Amalya sighs, “You honestly think I would attack him and bite out his tongue on purpose? What would posses me to do such a thing?”

Lancel stands again in a rage, “Sh’ toold me tht’ sh’ waaas jealsh nd’ wand me the hershelff!”

Amalya advances towards Lancel as Arthur grabs her arm in protest, “ When have I even spoken to you let alone show any interest!”

Lancel’s mother throws up her hands in protest. Lancel falls back into his chair, brooding. Lancel’s father steps forward, waving his hands violently towards Amalya, “You best speak up girl. You best speak the truth if you know what’s good for you.”

Horace grabs his waving arms and throws them down, “We are not here to post blame, get to get to the truth! There are two parts to play in this, not just her.” The two men glare at each other.

“That girl is nothing but trouble. You just try to convince me this whole thing was not her fault.”

“She may have her short comings but that’s my granddaughter your talking about.” Wanting to avoid any other confrontation between their new families Amalya speaks up, “He tried to kiss me!”

All eyes turn to her as she relays her honest tale, “He was babbling on about me…all this utter nonsense. He was touching my hair, my face and I kept trying to get away from him but he wouldn’t leave me alone! Then he grabbed me and tried to kiss me. I couldn’t get away! I didn’t know what else to do.”

The room falls silent as her confession reaches their ears. Horace’s face draws into a frown. He quickly looks at Lancel and then again at Amalya. He composes himself but not before he indicates a mild onset of panic. Lancel’s father snorts in protest, “What utter nonsense.”

Elra closes her eyes and turns away from her sister. Her face begins to relax as she takes a deep breath in. She leans on the chair, “Go…”

Amalya stares at her, “Elra, I...”

“Just go Amalya! I never want to see you again! GO! GET OUT OF MY LIFE AND GO!”

Amalya waits for her to change her mind. ‘She didn’t mean it, she was just so angry she…she didn’t mean it.’. Lancel sits looking quite pleased with himself. Arthur grabs Amalya’s hand and tugs it away, “Come on…”

She looks desperately at her grandfather, trying to find some sort of indication that he believed her. He looks at her apologetically. She cannot force herself to turn away from him. It’s almost as if he knew…somehow he knew that this is the last time he will ever see her again. Amalya breaks away from Arthurs grasp. She barrels through the door and runs as fast as she can. The world around her becomes a jumbled mess of noise and color. She needed to get out of here; once and for all. She has to escape this horrible place where she never truly belonged.

Next Chapter: Chapter 7: A Heavy Burden