Tending to her youngest child it was hard to chase after her six-year-old, already pregnant with seemingly two more.
Taking a breather she rested as the maids attended to her children.
Heading into the study she sighed, another letter from another woman accusing the king of messing with her.
She tossed it over her shoulder.
They were most likely all true, and she didn't give it a second thought.
She was already miserable in the marriage, thus why care about all the other problems people were desperate to add.
Pouring herself a glass of water she was craving some sort of liquor, but it was not ladylike, nor was it healthy.
The maid knocked on the door, "Votre Altesse?"
"Oui?" she grunted, holding her baby belly.
The maid entered, bowing, "Your sister wishes to know if this is a good time to visit."
"Which?" she asked, but soon put up one finger, "Never mind. I do not care for either."
"Are you sure, Votre Altesse?" the maid seemed anxious, "Your sister is very-"
She put a hand up, "I do not wish to hear any other explanations. Besides, Alain needs his diaper changed."
The nurse bowed, closing the door on her way out.
The queen twirled the glass around, making sure not to spill any.
Completely uninterested she turned her attention to the window.
Townsfolk were all getting in their best to go to the newest opera composed by the great Satordi.
She dismissed it completely.
She couldn't think about them.
The day passed by excruciatingly slow, but once it was over she laid back on the bed, her husband not there as usual.
Looking up at the ceiling she was completely out of it. She had forgotten what it was like to smile, to have pure joy, and what it was like to be in love.
Then, she remembered where all of those aspects started.
Don't you dare, she told herself. Don't. You swore it away.
She couldn't help herself.
Walking into the music room she held the candle and the sheets of music in her arms, heading over to the dusty instrument.
Blowing and wiping off all the dust she placed the music on the stand, sitting herself down on the familiar cushion.
Feeling the keys lightly underneath her fingers she melted into them, remembering the mistakes she made and how he made her correct them.
It was as if her skin cracked.
Looking up at the music she took a breath, and proceeded to play.
It was just a D scale…
But it brought such a joy to her eye.
Continuing on she didn't even need the music. Suddenly, the G, the A, the F, and all of the scales and arpeggios came back to her like magic.
It was beautiful.
Then, she recalled the challenging piece.
She recalled the piece se fell in love to.
She recalled the waltz.
Over ten years ago she played such a piece. Did she dare attempt it once again?
Pulling out the paper it was still in 4/4, her mind changing it to ¾.
She began to attempt it, but nothing really happened. What was the matter?
"If you wish to play a waltz you must understand how people are supposed to dance to one."
She closed her eyes…
She had spun him, her feet moving one each first beat…
And the notes were alive.
It was suddenly easier than it was a decade ago. It was suddenly born!
She was reborn.
She remembered her teacher's gentle hands, his flattering clumsiness, her teaching him to dance…
And soon the memory faded as another hand slammed their first on the keys.
She looked up, her husband's eyes barely open, but his eyebrows arched.
"Do you know what time it is?" he asked sternly, "Come to bed." She didn't move, "Now."
She stood from the harpsichord, rushing to the bedroom.
However, before she closed to doors she looked back at the instrument. She looked back at the beginning something that could've been magical. She looked back on love.
Smiling for one last time she closed the doors, always remembering her love, the great musician.