Their reunion didn't last long beyond that, and the boy found himself separated from his love far too soon. He didn't ever stop missing her, even when he was forced by his father to travel far away to the opposite end of the earth, miles and miles and miles away from his one true love. His heart would break every time he was not with her, and he wished and prayed that he had brought his Elysia with him. Perhaps it would have been more bearable.

He wished he could have spent his final hours with her before he left, doing whatever he wanted to her and letting her do whatever she wanted to him, before being separated and sent away to a foreign nation.

The ten years spent away from his love were the worst years of his life. He never smiled, wishing to die every time he imagined her soft, feminine voice, her perfect face, and her immaculate body. He longed to be married to her, longed to be back home. He feared for her life, worried that she had been disgraced by his father and that he had gone against his own word and had thrown her out.

He was listless, still, and lazy. Stiller than monks when they mediated in the peaceful churches, and lazier than the king's youngest child. His features were drawn together, and he despised life altogether without Elysia. He wished he had died as he waited for his father to bring him back home, but every rejecting letter forced him deeper into the depths of despair. Only Elysia could bring him back from the recesses of his dark mind.

Even when shown the most beautiful women of the land, who were more respectable, more attractive, and more honest than Elysia had ever been, he only wanted his love, only wanted the poor whore for his own. He wanted his wife because he knew that she would be the only one to love him the exact way he did. No other woman could compare to his desirable dove, his graceful gazelle, his mesmerizing malachite.

"Elysia, Elysia." He moaned in despair on the streets. "Why did you leave me, my love?"

And after the boy had stayed a decade, a letter informing of his father's death was sent to him. His grief for his father could not compare to the depth and vastness of the yearning he had for his Elysia. He didn't have to stay away from her any longer, and when he finally returned home, the aching in his heart only increased with every mile closer to her, and every day nearer. She would be his wife, he hoped. Too long did he stay in this distant land.

Was she old now, the young teenager that must have blossomed to a grown woman? The boy had become a man too, yet he couldn't forget the love that had taken ahold of his very being, that stole his heart and left it exposed for all the world to see.

He didn't care if her beauty had faded. He wanted to be with her once more, to embrace her, to kiss her, to feel her, to hear her voice, a song that sang with femininity and enraptured his soul, much like the sirens of legend.

"My heart shall rip from my chest to be reunited with my one and only love!" He cried every day on that long and arduous boat ride. His own beauty had faded long ago, despite his age that held on to his youth. He didn't care. He knew that his Elysia wouldn't care and that she would take him again, that she would say that she had missed him too and that she had stayed pure for him and only for him.

Oh, the thought of Elysia leaving for another man tore at his heart. It wasn't possible. A love as strong as his could not ever fade. He hated himself for even thinking of Elysia's betrayal. How could he ever doubt her?

He spent every waking moment thinking about her, singing songs about his yearning for her, talking about her, dreaming about her. Every single moment and every single second was dedicated to his beautiful lover.

"My God, where does she go?" He asked when he finally returned home. He came back to a house still in mourning, with black draped all over the place. "Tell me my father is the one who is dead and not my beloved Elysia."

"Stupid, prideful, love-struck, foolish boy!" His mother cried in anguish. "You leave this home to do your work in a foreign nation for ten years and yet you come back not to mourn the death of your dearest father, but to ask for a woman you have left alone halfway across the world? What kind of devil has possessed you? 

"You yearn for something you cannot have because you cannot control the lust that claims your body and soul. You've been so corrupted, that you cannot care for the death of your father. Insolent boy! What child have I raised?! What have I done to deserve such a selfish and unfeeling boy?! Your father's legacy has been disgraced by a son too arrogant to kneel and weep for him!" Her weeps echoed in the cacophonous room.

"Stupid, misunderstanding, simple-minded mother! My father was not a father to me—he despised what was in my heart and I can never forgive him for what he has done against me, what he has said against me! I've disowned that old man long ago for he could not give the blessing that belonged to me and my love. But oh! Where does my Elysia go? Where has she left? I have searched all over this house but cannot find her. Where has she gone?"

His mother collapsed at her son's response, inconsolable as she wept for her dead husband and for her lost wayward son.

There were his sisters, attempting to comfort their mother as they wept with her. They could no longer recognize their brother and hated that their hearts broke for him whenever he talked about Elysia. Their mother would die soon, the sisters knew. Their brother had done nothing but damage her further. They wept and wept, ignoring their brother's cries for Elysia, for they knew what had happened to her, but refused to give their brother that gift of knowledge.

Ten days later, his mother died, and still, the man was searching for his lost love. Not a tear was shed for his poor mother. She didn't understand after all. No one understood him. Where Elysia could have gone, the man didn't know and every day he woke up without his loving dove in his arms, his heart shriveled and twisted in his chest.

"Oh Adonis, your vanity has turned you blind with love," his oldest sister finally told him, unable to bear his ignorance and unable to hear the hurtful words he said against their parents.

"Oh Dionysus," moaned his youngest sister, "your love does not exist. Drunk with love, and blinded from your lust, you've twisted the narrative."

"Oh Romeo, Elysia has fled without you." His third sister taunted. "She's found her true love and where she is, we know not. The love you believed she had for you was false. Deluded and blind lover, how could you not see the truth?"

"Elysia!" He cried, distraught as he felt his heart shatter. "This cannot be true! I refuse to accept that my gem would have left me! My Elysia! My Elysia! O, how far I have traveled to find her in the streets, a poor prostitute with no clothing to grant her modesty! O Elysia your heart was pure!

"How could I have been seduced by a woman as honest as her? How could she have tricked me so? But why am I surprised—she must have done this before! Oh my heart, my fragile heart is broken! O Elysia your heart was never mine!

"She left me because I left her first—even if she didn't love me, we would have been bound in marriage, and at least then could I gaze upon her beauty for the rest of my days! O Elysia you have stolen my heart!

"There is no meaning to this life anymore. My heart has been stolen, it will no longer return to me. I thought you were my home Elysia, but you've robbed me of one! Look at my dead father and mother, freshly dug in the ground, and only months after do I now mourn! Oh, what grief I've given to my parents! My life is empty!

"Hear! I shall take this knife! This sharp, cunning knife, and strike it through my chest—for I have no heart beating inside me, my beautiful, innocent love has taken it from me!" The man struck the knife in his chest, his sisters motionless and in shock at their brother's act. "And now I take my final breath. Goodbye Elysia, I shall find you in another world. Perhaps God will allow me to seek my parents' forgiveness!"

His sisters did nothing as they saw their brother lay dead on the floor, for there is no pity for the foolish lover.

~Fin~

I really hate myself right now. Writing sucks. criticize if you want but I ain't doing anything about it.