It's Not Over Yet

I lied. I did not have to go to the toilet. But outside of the throne room, it felt like a weight lifted from my shoulders—only to come crash down again, making me stumble and almost taking me out.

I had made an utter fool of myself. A Dööskopp through and through.

I just wanted to be with Nela, and yet I screwed everything up.

I went down whatever route I could. As long as I was walking, and as long as it was away from the throne room, it was fine. People glanced at me, and while in the back of my mind, I knew it wasn't different from usual, today their glances felt sharper, each and every one a needleprick.

I found myself in the small garden close to the kitchens, the one I usually saw from inside as I practiced dinner etiquette with Meike. Oh, she was going to kill me for my performance, even before the queen could send me home.

Maybe that would be the better fate, to be honest.

I sat down on a wooden bench, and stared up at the sky. I was surrounded by the smell of grass and foliage, which mixed with the salty scent of the ocean. The sun was setting soon, and its colors washed over the sky, painting the giant, fluffy clouds a mix of gray, orange and purple. A flock of birds, mere silhouettes against the light, flew overhead. I could hear their excited chatters and caws. It was beautiful, and peaceful, but I wasn't in the right mindset to appreciate it.

I should go back, I thought. I should spend my remaining moments with Nela. We should make some last memories.

But as if the exhaustion of the day finally settled in, I couldn't move a muscle. I simply stared at the sky above, and felt horrible.

"Mind if I sit down?"

"Hm?"

I blinked, and was surprised to see a familiar face. Sören smiled at me and sat down, not waiting for my permission.

"They're taking a little break," he announced, "So we have plenty of time to get back. I've informed Meike, as well."

"About what?" The words came out bitter. "That I'll be gone soon?"

"What are you talking about?" Sören shook his head. "The engagement party isn't over yet. You still have a chance."

"What could I possibly do to outweigh... all that?" I gestured at the invisible mountain of mistakes that I had made in the last hour or so.

Sören shrugged. "It's not about the mistakes we make, but how we deal with them. I'd tell you not to worry, but I doubt that would do you any good."

"You got that right," I muttered.

"Well, but all that doesn't diminish your inner qualities."

"Yeah, right." I rolled my eyes.

"No, no, no. Hear me out: you started on the wrong foot, and t's difficult to get back into your groove then. I get that."

I couldn't believe it. As if Sören, who was still smiling, who was always so confident and easy-going, really could understand.

"You see," he continued, "There are always situations in our life where we make mistakes. Some of them are small. You might talk to a fair maiden, and she absolutely hates it. And you might continue to talk to her, even if she clearly says she doesn't want to talk to you."

He glanced at me. Yeah, that was a situation where I could imagine himself in.

"And maybe, then, you reap what you sow—like a slap." He laughed, and rubbed his left side of the face, as if he could feel it.

"That's just the consequence. But it's enough to realize what you truly want, no? I apologized, and kept my distance if she wanted to—and tried to be as considerate as I could."

I felt as if the conversation was drifting away from my problem.

"And slowly, but surely, you maybe understand her, understand what she wants, what she likes. There is more than attraction in that." He coughed, and looked at me again. "What I'm saying is, even if you make a mistake, or a row of them, it doesn't mean that it will define you forever. You can always go forward."

He looked at me with a sincerity that was hard to take in. Something inside of me turned. He was right, but it was difficult not to see myself as someone defined by my mistakes, by my father's mistakes. And yet, even someone as damaged as me found someone who accepted me. Was I really ready to give her up?

"Thank you," I managed to say. "Really, I mean it."

I wanted to fight for her. And the queen’s decision mattered, yes. But nothing during this engagement party was geared towards me—towards showing my true feelings for Nela. I could speak their language, and I was more than willing to learn about their culture. What more could she possibly ask for?

I got up and stretched. My shoulders still felt stiff, but at least the fire inside of my was ignited again. I could do this. I could show Nela—no, the whole world—just how much I loved her. And if that didn't impress Queen Malevke, then what really could?

"You're doing great," Sören said with a smile. "I know you can do it."

I let out a laugh. "It's really strange that you're cheering for us. Aren't you supposed to marry Nela instead of me?"

"Well, I too have plans that might deviate from my parents'," Sören replied. "And maybe, it's nice to see you carve that path before me."

He leaned back, the perfect picture of relaxation. "After all, that way I don't have to be the first to go that difficult path. Following someone is easier, no? And I like it when things go smooth."

"I can imagine."

But I was ready to take on the party. I was invigorated, as if I had just slept a good eight hours. I was ready to take on the world, to be honest.

"Oh, just one more thing," Sören said, already waving me goodbye. "Meike wanted to see you."

I stopped.

Maybe the world had to wait. There was one more encounter that I had to survive before that.