Medea shut the draw and held her breath waiting to see if the sound had awoken her husband. Quietly, Medea left the bedroom. Her husband had told her many a time to not do this. She had ignored him many a time, but he had always waken up and had sternly told her to go back to bed. It was all very well for him to tell her not to do this, but it wasn't his sister , whose heart was breaking.She stepped out into the cold night and went to where she knew she would find her sister looking for.
Sure enough, she saw her sister dressed all in black as befitted a newly made widow. Her sister was Selena Duchess of Thermond, until her husband had died in one of the first battles of the rebellion. Medea would never understand how her husband lived while her sister- the only person Medea considered a saint- had died. Both husbands had fought for Richard yet only one had survived to tell the tale. "Selena, sister," Medea called out. "Leave me alone. I want to be alone."
Medea did not leave. She knew her sister better than anyone and she knew her sister needed her there. Medea had been the one to dry her sister's tears when their father had said cruel words to Selena, out of frustration that God had given him two useless daughter instead of a son. Medea had been the one to purposefully displease their father so she would get the bunt of his anger not Selena. She was Selena's sister, best friend and in some ways Selena's only mother. For their own cared nothing for - as she called them- 'little brats'. "Selena, talk to me," begged Medea after a long silence.
Selena swung around to face her sister. "How can I? No one can understand the depth of my grief or the anguish of my heart," cried Selena the tears she had been holding spilling over. "And I hope no one will ever understand my sorrow. For their is only one way to understand it and for a mother to-Oh!" Wailed Selena as her anguished consumed her.
Quickly, Medea pulled Selena into a tight comforting hug. She stroked Selena's hair in silence as Selena cried on her shoulder.
Suddenly, Selena fled. To nurse her wounds in silence. When Medea could no longer see her nor her the sound of her running she cried. She cried for she knew there was no way she could heal or protect Selena any more. She cried for Selena's sorrow would never heal. It was a sorrow more painful than a long and slow death. Knowing you would die yet hoping as the hours passed something would changed and voila you would be all better. Selena had no hope that something would change. For hers was the sorrow of a mother outliving her son. Hers was the anguish of a mother, whose son was murdered two rooms away from her, and seeing his lifeless form lying on the floor. After the rebellion had failed Medea and her sons along with Selena and her son Thomas had fled to a church for sanctuary. Sancuary, the place where runaways, and people in danger are allowed a protection no one can break. The soldiers came and told them the King had decided not to punish the families of those who had participated in the revolt. But a madman had come in with the soldiers. While the soldiers talked of peace the mad man had murdered Selena's son, little Thomas. So, Medea cried for the loss of her nephew and for her sister's misery.
Eventually, Medea dried her tears. Her sister needed her to be strong for her and she would be strong. Medea had been her protector and shield from sorrow for years now, but this ultimate sorrow had befallen Selena and Medea could no longer be her protector any longer. But she would be her strength.
Selena swung around to face her sister. "How can I? No one can understand the depth of my grief or the anguish of my heart," cried Selena the tears she had been holding spilling over. "And I hope no one will ever understand my sorrow. For their is only one way to understand it and for a mother to-Oh!" Wailed Selena as her anguished consumed her.
Quickly, Medea pulled Selena into a tight comforting hug. She stroked Selena's hair in silence as Selena cried on her shoulder.
Suddenly, Selena fled. To nurse her wounds in silence. When Medea could no longer see her nor her the sound of her running she cried. She cried for she knew there was no way she could heal or protect Selena any more. She cried for Selena's sorrow would never heal. It was a sorrow more painful than a long and slow death. Knowing you would die yet hoping as the hours passed something would changed and voila you would be all better. Selena had no hope that something would change. For hers was the sorrow of a mother outliving her son. Hers was the anguish of a mother, whose son was murdered two rooms away from her, and seeing his lifeless form lying on the floor. After the rebellion had failed Medea and her sons along with Selena and her son Thomas had fled to a church for sanctuary. Sancuary, the place where runaways, and people in danger are allowed a protection no one can break. The soldiers came and told them the King had decided not to punish the families of those who had participated in the revolt. But a madman had come in with the soldiers. While the soldiers talked of peace the mad man had murdered Selena's son, little Thomas. So, Medea cried for the loss of her nephew and for her sister's misery.
Eventually, Medea dried her tears. Her sister needed her to be strong for her and she would be strong. Medea had been her protector and shield from sorrow for years now, but this ultimate sorrow had befallen Selena and Medea could no longer be her protector any longer. But she would be her strength.
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