'At the temple there is a poem called "Loss" carved into the stone. It has three words, but the poet has scratched them out. You cannot read loss, only feel it.'

-Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha
***

The Palace;

The sun hadn't risen yet when the first bout of pain clenched Maya's abdomen. It felt like she was being torn inside-out. It had been too encompassing to allow her to focus on anything else.

She did not hear the worried cries of her husband, or feel the blood soaking through her shift.

The realisation came afterwards, as she lay on the fresh covers, her eyes unblinking and dry.

She knew even before she looked at the miserable figure sitting beside her. She felt her palm gliding towards her abdomen and knew her womb was empty now. There was no hardness to it, no sliver of flutter that she had started feeling just a few days ago.

Her movement caused Edward to sit back, alert.
He took one look at her and let out a sigh of relief.

"Maya..."

Edward gently pushed the strands of hair falling on her face, gazing at her with a cautious look.

Maya's heart refused to acknowledge the worry on his face. How could he be worried about her?

"Aren't you angry at me?"

Her hoarse voice elicited a sharp look from Edward.

"Why would I be angry?"

Maya removed her hands from his, her eyes hard and unflinching.

"I killed our child. I failed to give you an heir. I failed as my own child's mother. How could you not hate me?"

Edward's jaw clenched as he took in her cruel words. He had known the moment he heard her cry of pain that night, that it would be a tough task to console her. But he had never expected her to be like this.

"How can you say that, Maya?"

He held her by her shoulders, forcing her numb gaze to drop to his hands.

"Look at me!"

Maya couldn't have shied away from his beseeching voice, even if she had tried. But she no longer had the strength to protest. She slowly raised her eyes to his, gasping at their intensity.

"I love you, Maya. I loved our child, as did you. It is not your fault. It was just what the fate had decided for us."

Maya shook her head vehemently, the tears finally escaping her.

"No. No, no, no! It was my duty to protect our child. But I was too absorbed in my grief to do so. In my own selfishness, I forgot about my own child. How could I ever be forgiven for this?"

Edward sighed frustratingly. Her words were proving to be more painful than their loss.
Was this his fault? Had he not shown her how much she meant to him?

"Maya, listen to me. You were grieving for your grandmother. It was natural for you to do that. And you are my wife, my confidant, my equal. I love you, not because you were carrying my heir, but because of who you are. Yes, I am heartbroken by what has happened, but we cannot undo it. You have to accept that. It had been nobody's fault. Alright?"

His fervent words filled Maya with a weariness that she had never experienced before. The truth came crashing down on her, like a boulder.
The self-deprecation was replaced by an abysmal sense of loss. It was no use now. She could blame herself all she wanted, but her words and regret would never bring her child back. It could not be undone.

She felt herself shaking uncontrollably, her body ravaged by sobs.

Edward held Maya tightly in his arms, whispering soothing words in her ears- words that she was unable to hear. They stayed in each other's embrace for hours.

Her cries echoed in the silence surrounding them. The entire Palace seemed to be shrouded in a veil of darkness. The King and the Queen, though mourning the loss of their grandchild, had known well enough to give the grieving couple some time alone.

The maids dared not venture to their chambers, their own sorrow palpable. The young princess-consort did not deserve such a cruel fate.

That night, as the rain pelted on the stones of the walls, everybody held their breaths when they saw the Prince leading his wife through the gloomy corridors. The maids gasped upon seeing the hollow face of their Princess. She could scarcely be recognised with the unhealthy pallor and precarious gait. Gone was the shine and liveliness of her eyes, and the radiance of her face.

They scurried back as they saw the dejection on their Prince's face. It seemed too intimate a moment to be intruded upon.

The guards however, stayed at their positions. They watched with sorrow as the royal couple made its way towards the church courtyard. They watched as the Prince carried his wife to the freshly-covered grave. There had been no funeral for the child. There was hardly a body to bury. But a proper burial for a royal descendent was imperative.

The King had commissioned a proper tombstone which was to be prepared within a few days. Till then, a marble slab, carved on the instructions of the Prince, had been placed in its stead.

One of the guards rushed towards them, offering them shelter from the rain. Prince Edward faced him before he could reach them, offering a firm shake of his head.

The guard retreated back hesitantly, watching them getting soaked in the onslaught of the raindrops, till it was impossible for him to distinguish the rain from their tears.

Maya leaned back on Edward's chest as she beheld the word carved on the marble, blurred in the downpour.
She took a shuddered breath, closing her eyes.

"Benedict?"

Her whisper caused Edward to tighten his arms around her. He recalled the bright-red, shrivelled body of his child as he had held him in his arms. It had merely been the size of his palm. He had thanked the Lord for sparing Maya the nightmare of seeing her own child in such a pitiful state. Then, he had cried. He had cried for his child, knowing that once Maya regained her consciousness, he had to be her strength.

"Our son. Is it not the perfect name?"
His composure faltered as he saw the grave.

Maya released his arms from around her, kneeling on the ground.

"Our son... Oh! My son! Yes. Yes, it is perfect. Benedict. It is-"

Her voice broke with a sob.

Edward swallowed his own tears before bending down behind her, pulling her back towards him. The rain poured down on them relentlessly, but they were barely ware of the icy droplets soaking them to their skin.

"Do you think he forgave me, Edward? Is he happy, wherever he is?"

Edward choked back a sob himself, as he replied softly,

"Yes, my love. Yes..."
__________________________________

Seaborne Estate;

Richard smiled warmly as he saw his wife arranging the table. The maids flocked around her, but she had never been readily accepting of their help.

"My Lady, let me do this."

A young girl, hurried forward with a flushed face as Minerva filled the tumblers.
She turned towards her with a small smile,

"It is alright. You please go and help the other ladies. I will handle things here."

Richard saw the hesitation intensifying on the maids face, but she finally relented, bowing and leaving the hall.

Minerva relaxed as the girl left. Even after almost a year of being married to Lord Seaborne, she was finding it difficult to adjust to this life. All her life, she had known how toil and slave for others. Never having had anyone to help her, she was suddenly surrounded by men and women who waited for her instructions. It had all been too overwhelming.
But her gratefulness for Lord Seaborne had propelled her towards adjustment. She could not fail a man who had been so benevolent towards her and her son. The least she could do, was try to be the proper wife for him- at least as proper as she could be, given her stature.

"You should start accepting their help, Lady Seaborne."

Richard's smiling face entered her vision, stopping her ministrations.

"My Lord, I- I apologize. I know it must anger you. Of course, it is not becoming for the Lady of the estate to do such petty chores. I will try to stop this."

Richard frowned as he heard her flustered words. Had she not understood the humour behind his statement?

"No, Minerva. You do not need to apologize for anything. This is your home too. You may do whatever you please. There is no one here to tell you what is proper or not. I have never been the proper Lord, myself."

He saw her raise her tentative eyes towards him.

"You are not angry?"

Richard chuckled as he shook his head.

"Of course not. You may do whatever you like. I am never going to be angry at something like this. Now, where is my son? I have been looking for him everywhere."

Richard's words sent a rush of warmth through Minerva's heart. It had been the same whenever he referred to Will as his son.
Oh, how she wished he were his!

"He has gone for a ride on the colt you gifted to him yesterday. He should be back soon."

Richard felt worry squirming inside him. Will was out riding, alone. What if something were to happen?
If Silas found him...

"He would be alright, My Lord. The squire is with him. Also, they would not venture beyond the Estate borders."

Minerva had known the musings of his mind the second his face drooped. She knew how much he cared for Will's well-being and was aware of his doubts.

"Yes, of course. You are right."

Richard felt some of the apprehension leaving him, and instead fixed his gaze upon his beautiful wife.

Each day he looked at her and felt a wave of longing assault his senses. He waited for it to abate, thinking that there had to come a day when she would seem a little less desirable. But each day, she seemed to radiate more and more beauty and kindness. His respect and admiration her for her courage and perseverance, only added to his desire for her. It was hard to decipher the exact moment he had fallen in love with his remarkable wife.

Though he tried to remind himself of her sufferings, beseeching his conscience to not take undue advantage of her, he failed miserably. He knew that the moment he asked something of her, she would never refuse. She had been expressing her gratitude every moment.
But that was not how he wanted it to be.

He wished that when she accepted his love- if she accepted his love- she did it sincerely.
He wanted to have her by her own accord and will, not because she felt owing him. And for that, he was ready to wait; he would wait for years to come, if it meant he could have her love.
__________________________________

Lammas Festival, Village Grounds;

Emma held her breath as she entered the arena. She had not meant to attend the festival, but her father's insistence had made her relent. His trade required for him to be involved in the social affairs of the village. Most of his buyers were the common folks; and instilling himself in their lives and customs, had been one of his beliefs.
Being his daughter, it was only proper for her to support him.

She duly smiled at everything that the girl beside her said. She was the daughter of one of the other merchants and had accompanied her in the same carriage. Though she was a fairly nice girl, Emma found herself wishing to be alone.
After all that had happened over the past two months, she had been engulfed by a constant sense of melancholy. The pretence of enjoying the festival was proving to be more and more difficult by every second.

"Oh, look! Is it not Lord Hayworth's eldest son? You must know him, Emma."

Emma's eyes snapped towards the other end of the arena, where Matilde pointed excitedly. Her heart thudded in her chest as she saw Brandon's laughing face.

"Yes, it must be! Who else would look like him in our Kingdom? Doesn't he look handsome? I have never seen a man quite like him!"

Matilde's voice raised a pitch as she fawned over the man in question.

Emma found herself lost for words. Her mind raced to acknowledge the presence of the man who had graced her dreams for so many nights. Brandon Hayworth was standing before her in the flesh, laughing with his usual abandon.

Indeed, there was no man in the entire Kingdom who could rival his charm and magnificence. But what concerned Emma, was the tightness of his features. Even from the distance, she could sense the turmoil in him.

"I- I would be back, Matilde. I just..."

Emma's voice trailed off as she hurried towards Brandon, leaving the perplexed girl behind, too distracted to finish her sentence.

It was only when she was a few steps away, that Brandon spotted her, his eyes turning guarded the very moment. Emma tried not to let that affect her. She had already dealt with enough of his antics all this time, and the hurt and anger resurfaced as she finally focussed on his company- namely two of the 'string of admirers' that he had always claimed to have.

"Emma, what are doing here?"

Emma bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from lashing out in front of everyone. Keeping her voice as civil as she could, she curtsied before straightening up.

"I am here with a friend- just like you."

Her acidic glance towards the other girls, caused them to shuffle uncomfortably; but Brandon himself seemed unconcerned.

"That is good. I would advise you to enjoy the festivities then. Do not let my presence hinder you."

The smile that he threw her way was the smile of a stranger.
Emma's eyes widened as he went back to grinning at the girl beside him.

"I am afraid I have to interrupt your conversation, Brandon. There is a matter I need to discuss with you."

Her tone was clipped, causing Brandon to face her with a wired look. The other girls tried little to hide their annoyance.
Well, too bad she did not care.

"Could it wait? It would be a shame to miss this spirited evening."

Emma fisted her skirts, holding the silent challenge of his eyes. She held her chin defiantly. If he thought he could avoid her anymore, he was greatly mistaken.

"No. It is an urgent matter. I am sure your friends would be understanding."

She saw the tick of Brandon's jaw as he looked at her and almost jumped with victory when he turned reluctantly towards his company.

"Pardon me for this interruption, ladies. Emma is a dear friend. I should probably go and listen to this urgent matter."

The annoyance on the girls' faces quickly turned to wide-eyed adoration as soon as he unleashed the power of his crooked, seemingly apologetic grin.
They seemed to be too lost in the web of his charms to question him any further, simply nodding their heads.

He quickly turned back towards Emma, the smile dropping from his face.

"Come with me."
__________________________________

They made their way to the back of one of the tents, finding a secluded spot. The dim glow from inside the tent lighted their path.

Brandon walked ahead of her; his gait filled with agitation.
He stopped abruptly, with his back facing Emma.

"Speak."

Emma felt tears pooling in her eyes. Every night she had dreamt of this moment; of what they would say to each other when they met again. She could still feel the touch of his lips upon hers; the memory of their kiss sent her heart aflutter.

But now, when the moment was finally here, his cruel behaviour was crushing her hopes to dirt.

"What happened, Brandon? Why are you being like this?"

She saw the stiffness of his shoulders ease a little, but he did not turn to face her.

Emma continued in an accusing tone,
"You did not reply to my letters. I was informed that you received them."

Her words were greeted with silence and she was suddenly filled with embarrassment.

Every week, since the funeral, she had written a letter for him. She made sure to keep them civil and formal, keeping it limited to her inquiries regarding his well-being, in case her father found them. She had thought he would understand and write her back. The stable-boy assured her that he delivered them to the Bradford Estate by hand, ensuring that they were handed to Brandon.

When he had left the Hayworth Estate after the funeral, without a word, Emma had been distraught. But she knew that he was upset and needed some time alone. She had not held any misgivings.
Then came the news from the Palace. Her heart broke as she imagined the pain that Maya must have gone through upon losing her child. She knew Brandon had visited his sister, and that he must be hurting just as much.

She had written the first letter after that; had waited for a reply, but never got one.

Each night, she slept with the nagging doubt- had she misinterpreted their encounter? Did he not feel for her the same way?

And now, when she was finally facing him, her fears were coming true before her eyes.

"Oh! I have been such a fool! You never intended to write back, did you? I am not a noble girl. Why would you ever be interested in someone like me? I was probably just one of your many admirers- one I had vowed not to turn into. Lord! I feel so asham-"

Her words were cut off when she was suddenly pulled into his tight arms. Emma struggled as she tried to release herself from his grip, ineffectually fighting the tears of frustration that rolled down her cheeks.
Her efforts were in vain as she felt the arms around her tighten further.

Exhausted, she slumped against his chest, breathing raggedly.

"Emma, please. Listen to me!"

Brandon's pleading voice caused her to glance up. He was looking at her with a tortured expression.

His hold loosened and his hands trailed up her arms to rest on her shoulders.

"You are perfect, Emma- a marvellous woman. You mean more to me than any other girl ever had. Yes, I did not intend to write back to you; not because I did not want to. Trust me, Emma, each time those letters arrived, I had to fight the urge of devouring the words, imagining your face as you wrote them. But I had to stop myself from reading them."

Emma frowned as she peered at his troubled face, sniffling though the tears.

"But, why?"

The puzzlement and hurt in her eyes snapped Brandon back to reality.
He immediately regretted his lapse. He should never have said all this. It would only make things more difficult than they already were. He immediately pulled back, releasing Emma, causing her frown to deepen.

"Because you should never have written them. Do you not understand, Emma? You should not write to me. You should not talk to me. And most importantly, you should stop thinking about me. It would do you no good. You should find a man who could give you all that you deserve- happiness, care, kindness, security, family, adoration... love."

"And you cannot be that guy?"

The anger on Emma's face made him hesitate. But he knew he had to continue.

"No, I am not. My heart is shrouded in anger and hatred, Emma. I can not offer you any of those things. I do not know how to, anymore. I had once thought I did, but I was wrong. Dragging you in my hell, would be cruel of me."

Emma swallowed past the indignation and frustration and stepped closer to him. She tilted her face towards his, forcing him to look at her.

"And leaving me after what we shared, would that not be cruel? You should have thought about this before you kissed me, Brandon Hayworth."

She saw the flash of guilt in his eyes and her anger intensified. She did not want to see his guilt.

"Yes, it was. I should not have done that. It was a mistake, Emma. I was not thinking rationally."

"So, you would not have kissed me, had you been thinking rationally? It meant nothing to you? Did you honestly not feel anything?"

Her confronting words caused Brandon to swear under his breath.
He ran a frenzied hand through his hair before replying in an exasperated tone,

"Lord, yes! Of course, I felt something, Emma. I am not made of stone! But that is not significant. Have you not heard a word of what I said? I cannot be selfish enough to ruin your life. You could never be happy with me."

Emma calmed as she saw his guard break. The Brandon she had come to love was there!
She had not lost him yet.
When she spoke next, her voice held an unexpected assertiveness,

"Leave me to worry about my future. I should have said this before, but I had not had enough courage. Now, I realize I was wrong to have stalled... I love you, Brandon Hayworth. And if you feel the same about me, then there is no need for us to worry about anything else."

Brandon stilled as soon as the words left her mouth.
She smiled softly as all the apprehension in his eyes was replaced by tenderness.
His face and eyes told Emma all that she needed to know.
He loved her too.

"Emma..."

His velvety whisper gilded over her skin, filling her with warmth.

"You do not need to say anything. I am not a fool, Brandon. I can see it in your eyes. And as you might have noticed over the years, I am far from an ideal Lady. I know exactly what you have to offer me, and I am contended with that. Still, if I had judged you wrong, and you indeed are too much of a coward to face the truth, then tell me."

Brandon threw his head back with a loud sigh.

Emma knew she was utilising an underhanded tactic, but she was well aware of his sense of honour. She had hit him where it hurt him the most. If this did not crack his armour, then she really had no chance.
She waited with bated breath as he straightened, pinning her with a fierce look.

Brandon cursed his fate for landing him in such a position. He had known the moment he spotted Emma Mortimer in the festival, that his restraints had all been in vain. The moment she had opened her delectable lips to throw those unforgiving accusations at him, he stopped fighting his will.

She would never retreat. He should have known that; it was one of her many endearing qualities- her ability to speak her mind fearlessly.
He had made the mistake of losing his composure, revealing everything to her.

He knew he had to scare her away. He had to make her realise what she was asking for. It would be harsh and probably cause her to hate him; but if it was the last chance, he would not hesitate to take it.

Brandon turned his face into an impassive mask, forcing the hurtful words out of his mouth,

"Very well. If you are ready to accept what I have to offer, then why should I have any problems? But before you jump into this, you should be fully aware of our arrangement, Emma. I refused a marriage that my father had proposed for me. I did it because I have no intention of ever getting married. It would do you good to not have any such expectations from me. We may be lovers, but you would never be my wife; and neither would I ever be your husband."

He heard her gasp and winced inwardly. He knew his words were callous and untoward. But if he did not act thus, she would never truly understand the reality of their situation.
He continued apathetically,

"Of course, when the time comes, we have to sever our ties. I cannot offer you an eternity of togetherness. We will have to keep our liaison a secret, of course. I do not intend to harm your reputation. I would never acknowledge you in front of others, as anything more than a friend. When you do get married, you will have to answer for the loss of your virtue and would be shunned by the society. You would be shaming your father.
Are you ready to accept all these conditions, Emma?
Are you really ready to throw away your life for a man like me- one who would give you so little and take so much more?"

He softened his voice, looking at her with an anguished expression, his eyes tracing the path of her treacherous tears.

"I am no good for you, Emma. Trust me. You will find a better man; a good man. And you will learn to love him. Know that if I were capable of loving anyone in this world, it would be you."

Emma found herself too suffused with conflicting emotions to find any words. She kept staring at him, unblinking and teary-eyed.

Brandon stepped closer to her, bending down to bring his face inches away from hers.
His eyes were vivid with emotion as he spoke in an almost provocative tone,

"If you are still sure about your devotion towards our love, meet me after tonight, once the festival is over."

He turned to move back towards the centre of the arena, leaving Emma stunned in his departure.
__________________________________

The night went along excruciatingly slow.
Her conversation with Brandon constantly echoed inside Emma's mind, making it impossible for her to concentrate on anything else. She found her gaze converging on Brandon's profile time and again.

He seemed to be enjoying his night just fine, but she knew it was all a façade.
He could not possibly be calm after what had transpired a few moments ago.

The ground beneath her feet felt like the waves of ocean as Emma sat, contemplating her decision.

Brandon's words haunted her; her own fate seemed to be mocking her.
Was she really ready to face all that, just to be with him? And as he had said, when it ended, would she be able to handle the loss? Or would she break under the insurmountable ordeals? Could she do it?

The answer presented itself after the festival was over. She sat straight, lost in her own reverie as Matilde came to her.

"Emma, it is time. We should leave."

Emma looked at the girl absent-mindedly, nodding her head. Matilde seemed to accept her answer and started making her way out of the arena.

As Emma stood to follow her, she caught his eyes.
He was leaving alone, exiting from the opposite side. It was the first time after their discourse that he had spared her a glance. It was no more than a swift glimpse behind his back. His expression was almost relaxed and thankful- like he had been hoping for her to retract on her words. But it was his eyes that betrayed him.
They looked at her longingly- filled with an ardent yearning.

And at that moment, the answer presented itself to Emma as clear as the day. She wondered why she had debated it in the first place.

She wordlessly followed Brandon's retreating figure, not stopping until they had both reached the soft patch of grass outside. He gave no indication of hearing her, moving closer to the spot where he had tied his priced steed.
They were surrounded by nothing but peaceful silence of the night and Emma felt surer of her decision, drunk on the beauty of the moonlight.

She did not care about Matilde waiting for her, probably worried beyond measure; neither did she care about all that he had warned her against. All she knew was that she loved this man. She knew that she would never be able to love anyone with the intensity with which she loved him; and that she would gladly cherish each moment that the Lord would grant her with him, no matter how short or rare it might be.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Brandon faced her. His eyes openly revealed his acceptance. He had finally realised what she already knew- neither of them could fight the love that they had. It was mightier than both of them. Their efforts to avoid it were futile.

"You should not be here."

His voice was a cautious whisper, almost like he was afraid of her being an apparition- a figment of his imagination, conjured by his love-sick mind.

"Yes, I should not. But I am. Now, what do you intend to do about that?"

She did not have to wait for long, as in the very next moment, she found herself pressed against his entire length, his breath hot on her mouth as he breathed arduously.

"I thought my words had managed to drive you away with fear and revulsion. It made me mad with anguish... You should have run away- as far away as possible. You are too stubborn for your own good."

Emma smiled softly, running her fingers along the length of his jaw. Her heart clenched as she saw the vulnerability in his eyes.

Oh, poor Brandon! What have you done to yourself?

He was so accustomed to losing those he loved, that he had tried chasing her away before fate did it for him.
Emma was going to prove his conviction wrong. She knew he would probably never be able to give her what she wanted. She knew he was not capable of loving her like that, had seen it in the haunted look of his eyes; but she would treasure what little of himself he had to offer. She would prove to him that she was not going anywhere.

"You said so yourself- I am too stubborn for my own good. You should know me better than to think of me as a coward who would run away after facing the first challenge."

Brandon smiled wistfully, pressing his face into the haven of her silken locks. Her scent engulfed his senses, filling him with warmth and an agonisingly profound feeling rapture, causing his heart to swell.

His voice was thick with emotion as he spoke next, each word enunciated with reverence,

"I love you, Emma Mortimer."
__________________________________

Author's Note-

*Phew!*

Finally! We have reached a very interesting point of the story. This was a long chapter, but in its defence, it needed to cover loads.

I did not like writing about Maya's miscarriage, but it had been hinted from the start of her pregnancy.

Losing a child is the toughest thing for any parent. What effect do you think it will have on Maya (especially at her age and the weak state of her mind) Can Edward's love be enough to bring her out of her trauma?

Richard's story is progressing slowly, but steadily. What do you have to say about his and Minerva's equation? Will it be easy for Minerva- a victim of sexual and mental assault- to learn to trust, and love, Richard?

Last but not the least, Bran and Emma.
Their story has progressed to some very murky waters. What do you think makes Brandon hesitant to love Emma?

Was it wise or stupid of Emma to accept Bran's proposal?

Will he ever be able to let go of his demons?

Okay, that was all.
Stay safe everyone!

(2nd week of deadline accomplished! Yayyy!!)

Till the next time!👋