Chapter Text
Would that I knew not of the warmth of his embrace
Had I not been beguiled by the emerald specks in his gaze
Bathed in the effervescent glow of his very countenance
Freed from the sweet mirage, no longer bound by its shackles, ‘tis I
And despite the slow passage of time
I’d hoped that someday your heart would wholly be mine
I dared not covet your kinship nor your flesh
Whilst you stayed true to your unwavering devotion
Wherefore worries plague your dreams and doubt takes root in your soul?
Lest no solace shall be found in your emerald midnight lover
I shall consume your beating heart and stake claim to it, forever mine
~*~
Edgar O’Grady watched from afar as the son of Viscount de Rougemerle lightly caressed the scullery maid’s ebony hair, kissing it as he spoke sweet nothings in her blushing ear. His golden locks seemed to cast a halo over his head, further emphasizing his angelic features. With an air of flamboyance, he carried himself with all the charm the heavens could bless – able to woo just about every living being in his vicinity. He threw his head back, a hearty laugh escaping from his lips. Like buds in spring, two small dips in his cheeks blossomed, his lovely smile the centerpiece. Above all, it was his eyes that beheld many a beau. An unsettling gaze that seemed to pierce through one’s very soul, an emerald hue.
To many, he was the bastard prodigal son; a damned rake; a loutish ruffian; a profligate womanizer who dared to fraternize with any wearing a skirt. To his sister Victoria, he was the devil incarnate, a living proof of her sin – one she desperately wished to bury – tempting her deepest desires to surface. To dearest June, he was heaven on earth, Eden she could get herself lost in; hope and a dream come true once, save for the bitter aftertaste left in his wake.
And Edgar, oh Edgar, he was but a valet. A mere butler devoted to serving the rightful heir to the Viscounty. His own eyes bore the likeness of his master’s emerald midnight lover, one he’d held like a stake – a claim to his heart. Could he have filled the bottomless pit inside this Carmen? A willing servant as selfless as he was ruthless on behalf of his precious master. Nay, for he had destroyed the one place of solace and reprieve he had in this harsh and cruel world. A juvenile fantasy, a mere reflection of his lonesome, a desperate cry for the love deprived in his boyhood.
The winds of change came far too soon for the unprepared, threatening to shatter the sweet image of what once was. Edgar stared at the lifeless body beneath him. Ironically, only upon death did the life in those emerald eyes of his return. My Poor Carmen, fated to die by the hands of those who coveted him, bound by a prison of their own making – an eternal cycle of damnation and salvation. Yes, forever preserved in their loving memories, laying roots in the accursed soil spilled with his own flesh and blood.
The rose you gave to me will not return to dirt
But lay roots and make a thriving thicket of its stem
Just as the love you planted in my heart
Will honor your affections with each day that passes
A covenant of unchanging hearts
To which no spoken oath could do justice
-Emerald Midnight Lover