Work Text:
The clock in the room chimes the first hour of a new day. The window is open and the air out there is fresh and clean, full of bright stars. Here, in the countryside, the skies are exceptionally clean. William has no difficulties recognizing some constellations intuitively, by the old well-trained habit, although in his thoughts he’s not here.
The warmth of the bed wraps him. Heavy bedspread, thick blanket. And the woman twined around him. She doesn’t just warm him. She scorches, melts, almost turning his body into ashes. Such a vivid, restless, pure manifestation of youth, she had been guided by some divine providence or devil’s hand, but she ended up here, with him. She exists in his embrace, breathing under his arm’s weight, and her heart is beating and it feels as if it’s about to shatter his ribs.
Nothing disturbs her dreams. Not the old simple clock, nor the light of the bright Moon on this May night, that blinds Melbourne, nor sounds of the night forest, that are easily distinguishable from this small gamekeeper’s house on the edge of a clearing. Nor his fear. Heavy and sticky, it has been coursing through William’s veins for many days and nights now. The fear, which is almost touchable, presses with all its weight, impeding life and breath. It is dreadful.
And it is dreadful as well that William knows - his fears will come true. It’s just a matter of time. They are coming after them… She must be safeguarded, must be protected right now, all suspicions must be drawn away. No danger for his Victoria.
Queen Victoria, he pulls up and corrects himself. She belongs to the nation. She cannot belong just to him, but despite all the reasons, he’s able to feel thin milk-white skin on sharp collarbones now.
She cannot and should not belong to him. But she gives herself away almost every night. And he is insane enough to accept this gift.
Cet océan de passion
Qui déferle dans mes veines
Qui cause ma déraison
Ma déroute, ma déveine
(This ocean of passion
Breaking through my veins
Causing my irrationality
My disarray and my bad luck)
They weren’t careful enough. All those days, weeks, months, when this fever was going on, they drifted with the tide, falling for sudden impulses, not caring about anything, save each other.
Looking back, he finds himself greedy. And very likely egoistic. To touch her, to drink in the feeling of possession, her smell, her laughs and smiles, those very special smiles, which were kept only for him… Her small, round, almost childish face would fill with such undisturbed happiness, would radiate such confidence, such deep womanhood, that William would find it not suitable even to think about tomorrow. And that was wrong.
They are coming. All of them. And each one of them has one’s own retribution. Abdication, exile, execution. Melbourne contemplated possible outcomes of this sweet reverie, which had been too good to be true.
Friends had warned him. There were quiet, full of considerate concern women’s whispers into his ear; there were as well loud warnings from his friends after a couple of extra glasses. They forewarned, but he knew it all himself. Maybe that’s why he never listened to them?
No. He didn’t listen, because all of this was stronger than him. There was no name for this feeling. Nature’s force, gravity, fate.
Doucement j'y plongerai
Sans qu'une main me retienne
Lentement je m'y noierai
Sans qu'un remord ne me vienne
(I'll slowly dive into it
With no hand holding me back
I'll slowly drown myself into it
Without feeling any remorse)
Victoria moves sleepily and unconsciously leans closer to him. William’s palm moves onto her back. Her wavy and dishevelled curls are inviting, wrapping around long fingers. Her breath tickles the skin on Melbourne’s abdomen. She is so small and so fragile, and at the same time, there is so much of her. Too much to bear.
Poison in small portions allows the man to get used to it. Dance with her, talk to her, ride out with her – it wasn’t difficult, but it did intoxicate and bestow an illusion, that everything will stay that way and they won’t go too far. And there will be no need to make a choice.
But this moment came. Once walking the line, they gave up to this dizziness and fell. Pleasant fall, flying free. They are still there, between heaven and earth, and it is a bliss and delight of all kinds. Victoria’s head moves and she plants a kiss where her lips happened to be. For a moment, William thinks he is omnipotent and invulnerable.
Tu vas me détruire
Tu vas me détruire
Et je vais te maudire
Jusqu'a la fin de ma vie
(You will destroy me
You will destroy me
And I shall curse you
Until the end of my life)
But fear does come back. Victoria falls into sleep again, sniffing quietly; her breath tickles his torso, her hair like seaweeds entangling his hands and pricking a little. William thinks that she is like a small bird, flapping in a trap.
He must not draw her into it. Although she drew him...
Stubbornness, determination, and willpower – she has all of it in her, and it’s impossible to ignore it. It drove him mad. This woman gave him no choice. He fought; he tried to do what is right. In the eyes of the world, he seduced her, but in the eyes of destiny, she was born to tempt him.
Just for a second he feels that he hates her. For her recklessness and impulsiveness. For the fact that she was provoking him, led him to this point of no return.
He is doomed. This is a straight way to the scaffold, and then directly to hell. Because of her.
Tu vas me détruire
You will destroy me.
But if she doesn’t come out of this safe and sound, his suffering will be a million times worse than it could possibly be in hell.
Mon péché, mon obsession
Désir fou qui me tourmente
Qui me tourne en dérision
Qui me déchire et me hante
(My sin, my obsession
Wild desire tormenting me
Making a mockery of me
Tearing me part and haunting me)
Stars in the skies outside the window wink slyly. They call for a trouble, reveal their shelter. Bright beam of a moonlight in the gloom of the room snatches out the stiff features of a man’s face. The face Melbourne sees in the mirror every morning. The Moon echoes the stars – ‘there he is, the criminal’, ‘there he is, the villain’.
Fool, insane old man, he dared to encroach not only on the youth, but on the Queen’s innocence. Could there be a more horrible treason? Will he dare to justify it all by love?
Petite marchande d'illusion
Je ne vis que dans l'attente
De voir voler ton jupon
Et que tu danses et tu chantes
(Little illusions dealer
I live but in the expectation
Of seeing your petticoat getting blown up
And of you to dance and sing)
And is this love? Can you call by that sacred name all this explosive mixture of delight and pity, tenderness and desire, pain and respect?
Victoria lives as she breathes, all her emotions written on her face for those who know how to read it. She is so artless, so unaffected. It is so easy to mistake the Queen for a girl, who just likes pleasant company and cheerful evenings. Go, risk, and forget who she is and who you are! Let yourself assume, that she needs you a little more than expected. And she would not care to help drive away this delusion. She does what she wants, revelling in her youth and freedom.
But William cannot suit her. He doesn’t have what she does, what caught an eye immediately - he has no time and opportunities.
Tu vas me détruire
Tu vas me détruire
J'aurais pu le prédire
Dès le premier jour
Dès la première nuit
(You will destroy me
You will destroy me
I could have foretold that
From the very first day,
From the very first night)
She can get through it. For she is the Queen. And they will forgive her youthful mistakes. The greatness of Victoria has been created by nature and it will save her. It is painful to fall for the first time, but it’s easier to get over.
And more difficult for him, who has fallen so many times. Moreover, this time certainly will be the last. He will not find the strength to withstand it, when they force her to leave him.
Tu vas me détruire
You will destroy me
However, he had thought that she was his salvation.
Moi qui me croyais l'hiver
Me voici un arbre vert
Moi qui me croyais de fer
Contre le feu de la chair
(Thinking I belonged to winter
I now am a green tree
Thinking I was of steel
Against the passion of the flesh)
Living by the habits, like a marionette in a street theatre, Melbourne had long since not been looking for intensity of perceptions. There weren’t many things he hadn’t tasted in his life, so now he found safety in his deep wounds of experience. And there was no prospect of being endangered by passion.
Nevertheless, it struck him right away. Slowly and insensibly, it fed him, getting him used to the sweet poison bit by bit. Previous feelings were remembered, becoming 100 times sharper. The Sun is glowing brighter at the sunset.
Victoria’s poison killed the cynical old man inside him and woke up the reckless youngster.
Je m'enflamme et me consume
Pour les yeux d'une étrangère
Qui ont bien plus de mystère
Que la lumière de la lune
(I go up in flames and am consumed
With the eyes of an unknown woman
Which are blessed much more mystery
Than the moonlight)
And he is still here, because in the ardour of youth, even if the youth is just a pretended one, man knows no fear. He only knows the tenderness of silky skin and inviting sketch of these, so dear to his heart features, painted by the same light of the curious Moon. Her ideal profile and chin remind of great belligerent ancestors, who came from the continent. Dark hair, same as brows, thick eyelashes, these hints of exotics dissolve in intensity of her piercing look.
As if she has heard his thoughts, Victoria sighs deeply, shaking with all her body, sending waves of trembling from Melbourne’s head to toe. William wonders again how her wonderful eyes keep their clean colour amidst black and grey halftones of the night.
She stretches out to him, rising on one elbow, and clenches his broad shoulder, which is constrained with endless tension. Everything backs away, calms down. The whole world goes to hell, when she kisses him. Touch of her soft lips catches something in his heart, and it flutters and pounds so hard, that it hurts.
Tu vas me détruire
Tu vas me détruire
Et je vais te maudire
Jusqu'a la fin de ma vie
(You will destroy me
You will destroy me
And I shall curse you
Until the end of my life)
She does it to him again. She resurrects him for a moment, just to push him even deeper into the grave. Promises happiness she has no right to give. William in despair bites her lips, only to provoke responding tenderness, and he finally has to accept it so desperately.
Tu vas me détruire
Tu vas me détruire
J'aurais pu le prédire
Dès le premier jour
Dès la première nuit
(You will destroy me
You will destroy me
I could have foretold that
From the very first day,
From the very first night)
William is afraid to wake up. He is afraid to close his eyes, although her kisses now are more and more insistent. As if trying to heal every invisible, but so painful scar of his previous life. Victoria presses his face to her, turns and bends in her strange primeval dance, like a small snake, offering her smooth flexure to his arms.
Her skin wears no perfume, only slight natural musk, her hair smells like sweet spring blossoming, having absorbed the traces from their day walk in the vicinities of Brocket Hall. Victoria slips up along his spread body.
Melbourne cannot stand this torture, for the umpteenth time losing the ‘mind and heart battle’. With just one move, he grabs Victoria in his arms, pulls her down on her back and covers her with his body. She struggles, but gives up easily, so very mild and intoxicating, he would never have enough.
She was sent to him for his consolation. She was sent to him for his perdition.
She catches the air with her mouth, trying to cope with her own body, but losing herself even more, melding into one with William. They intertwine tightly, and he prays, like every time, to burn down in this sweet heat, and not to fade in this cold and cruel world. He loves her desperately, passionately and deeply. Losing himself between dream and reality, between nightmare and bliss.
Two voices cut the night silence and break off, frightening the birds.
Tu vas me détruire
Tu vas me détruire
Tu vas me détruire
William kisses Victoria’s hair, holds her tight, suddenly realizing that he’s not afraid of the trial or the headsman’s axe. He will die in just the same moment his Victoria slips out of his embrace.