The Delusion of the Countess

The Delusion of the Countess

The Countess of Ely always did like the boy with the soft dark hair. It was not quite black, but almost too dark to be plain brown. She liked his young, feminine features, wide, sparkling eyes as blue as the brightest sky. She adored his ever present smile that fit his face perfectly, like a piece bitten out of an apple would fit snugly right back into the depression formed from the bite taken.

She didn’t know how old he was, he appeared to be somewhere the likes of twelve or fourteen. Young, almost too young, but it hardly mattered. He had quite a charisma about him that drew people. The poor child would be so much worse off, had he been anyone else.

He didn’t speak English, this she knew. At the very least, he refrained from speaking at all, but he relied on his smile to communicate his intentions. The Countess had become quite good at reading the boy’s face, perhaps because she never tired of looking at it. And no matter how long she stared, the boy with the soft dark hair would smile back, a little pink flushing in his soft, feminine cheeks, those sparkling blue eyes showering her with the brightest of glitter.

Yes, The Countess of Ely loved the boy with the soft dark hair and the vibrant eyes.

The best part was, he was her personal boy. She had sacked all of her previous handmaidens after the boy had come into the service of her husband, wanting only the boy to serve her. She didn’t feel shy that he would see her in her nightclothes, help her to lace her corset or pin up her hair. She could ask him to do anything, and she especially like to ask him to make tea for her. Lately, every time she received a cup of tea from the dark-haired boy, it tasted gloriously better, made her feel more heavenly than she thought tea could ever make her feel.

He was her best friend.

One misty afternoon found the countess huddled demurely by the window of her suite, the luxury of its royal contents lost on her as she sobbed into and old length of extra sewing cloth, the likes of which were scattered every which way around the room. The door whispered open on clean brass hinges, and soft footsteps hovered on the edge of her hearing. The countess turned her head to see the boy, looking in worry and curiosity, and she didn’t try to hide her tears.

“Come, boy, and keep me company.” She smiled and gestured to him so he would know what she was asking. The boy blinked once and nodded, trotting over to sit on the floor beside the countess, looking up at her with those glittering blue eyes she so dearly loved to see. “Ah, boy, you don’t know what the count says to me, do you? He’s quite hurtful some days, you know.”

The boy just looked on in uncomprehending curiosity.

Countess laughed without feeling any mirth. “Two years in this court and one might think you’d have learned a few of our words by now. I wonder what language you speak?”

The boy looked on. Eyes staring, ears drinking up every word of unknown meaning, wonderfully blue eyes peering deep into hers, as if he felt her pain, her joy to be with him. She smiled at him with gratitude and kindly bade him go make her some tea, some of that tea that always tasted better when he made it, so she might feel better. At the apparent thought of serving her, he scrambled to his feet and smiled at her, a smile that said “I knew that was exactly what you needed all along, my dear countess”. This was why the countess loved the boy so much.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The broken vagabond with the soft dark hair never cared too much for anyone. In fact, I was glad I didn’t.

I’d learned to stop thinking so much about the hole in my chest that burned and stung when even the slightest brush of changing wind touched it. It still hurt, it hurt badly. I felt guilty for not being incapacitated. Was he feeling the same way? I took an extra serving of guilt hoping he was in much pain for me as I was for him. That’s how it was supposed to be, after all.

One becomes two, two becomes two halves, and it is all part of the same whole.

Of course, I never let the royal mistress, as I liked to call her, see this. The poor woman was lost in her delusions. I just hoped she wasn't developing romantic feelings for me. I'd been down that road before and had no desire to replay that fiasco. It was entertaining though, seeing her fawn over the boy she thought I was. Haha, crossplay was always something I enjoyed doing. Made things easier, too.

So I let the mistress keep her delusions, and I kept mine, never failing to hope that somehow I could make this gaping ragged hole between my ribs disappear.

How did I manage this? Luckily for me, I’d found a peddler of, well, let’s say rather objectionable substances while taking some free time from my current occupation as a go-fer. Fine white leaves, they were, that could be crushed into tea, rolled into a smoke, chewed, or sniffed. And any way you took them, they were delicious and let you see everything brighter, clearer, cheerier. The fine white leaves wrapped cords around the chasm in my chest and pulled it tight so it didn’t feel so huge anymore.

I paid a pretty penny or two for the supply I had, and again my luck prevailed. The master and mistress of the manor never questioned the money gone. I was just a poor kid off the street who didn’t speak a lick of….whatever it was they spoke here. And it was true, I didn’t.

I was stopped before the ornately woven iron bars of the gate that rose between two marble pillars with great stone eagles standing sentinel on either side. Scowling, I heaved a breath and leaned into the nearest pillar, thumping my back against it in testimony to the foul mood that gnawed at me. Furtively, I fingered the pocket of the overcoat I had been given when I “moved” here. It was made for a boy, so it was wide in the shoulders. That was just as well. My background gave way to my back and shoulder muscles being strong and of fair size.

I snuck the smallest of the little white leaves into my fist, ground its crisp dry husk with my hand, and lifted my fist to my mouth where I let the white crumbly dust filter onto my tongue. From there I used my thumb to pack the small amount of dust into each side of my cheeks. The miracle serum washed over the back of my tongue and trickled down my throat. Already I felt the yawning chasm between my ribs contract and lessen in intensity. Sighing, I felt my muscles relax, my head become blessedly lighter, and I smiled.
Yes, now I was presentable to the mistress. Opening my eyes, I saw that greens were greener, blues bluer, colors popped at my eyes, making me open them wide and smile as I took in the beauty of the world that these blessed little white leaves could bring. The mist seemed mistier as it swirled around me, and all I wanted was to dance with this miasma of freshness around me.

The mistress loved these leaves. She didn’t know it, but she did.

Humming a tune and skipping down the path to the enormous manor, I felt that less was wrong in the worlds today. I thought to share my newly induced happiness with my mistress. Great timing, it turns out. The poor woman needed it.

I peeked into her room unbeckoned, because I knew she liked to keep company with me at this hour. I tried to make as little sound as possible, in case she was taking of an afternoon nap. She wasn’t, but sharp as a subtle knife she was, and beckoned me in, gesturing that she wanted me to sit next to her. I grinned stupidly and trotted into the room like the happy puppy I felt like, and just that goaded a smile from her. Seated at her feet, I stared up at her, marveling at the brightness of the wet tear stains on her cheeks. She smiled more widely and started speaking those words I couldn’t understand. I let them wash over me, letting the accentuated melody of voice flow into my ears, the glittering brightness of her tears filter through my eyes.

Thus I marveled, listening but not hearing, looking but not seeing, until the mistress bade me go make her some tea. I stood up to oblige the mistress, knowing exactly what she needed. I smiled; absently fingering the pocket with the dry white magical leaves nestled in it.