A battle internalized within her. Both her loyalties were fighting. A duty to be faithful to her current husband billowed over her conscious as a longing to rekindle this pure love she felt for her past lover itched in her throat. The lose of words made a stir of panic stretch inside of her, and soon her toes and fingers felt the weight of her tired heart.
She could not just leave the King. To run away in lustful action with Philip would be most unwise. Vi didn’t doubt the power that her husband possessed and the means he would extrapolate to find his queen. If she were to run, Marcus would quickly follow. No one would believe that she would wish to flee from such an extravagant life. The assumption would be that she was kidnapped by Philip. Surely, she would not just leave the king.
And even if she were to do it the right way, would she be happy living the rest of her life in his shadow? Divorce was common before the war, but now it was a rare a occurrence. Marriage was both a pledge of devotion and a business deal. If Marcus and Vivian were to separate, her name would be the highlight of the aristocrat mockery. There would be no mercy for the woman, she was married to the most powerful man in the world. Only scandal or sheer madness would remove any other woman from her position. She would be disbanded from the rich and royal, Vivian would have to learn to live in a world she knew nothing of.
Truly, somewhere inside of her stone facade a deep love overpowered her greed for status and wealth. Her eyes kept focused on a button situated in the center of his white shirt; her fingers close to the line of connectors, frozen in time. Philip’s words stammered for meaning as Vivian’s heart sank deeper. After a moment, Philip’s words structured themselves into question. His deep voice filled with concern and doubt as he spoke, “What’s wrong, Vivian? Why?”
Her feelings ready to express themselves, but her mind ready to wrap those feelings up and hide them; Vivian’s mouth hung open. Her eyes trailed up his suit jacket until they reached Philip’s, no Danny’s, blue eyes. A roar from the party seeped through the door and her nervous eyes darted toward the door for a moment before looking upon her Danny once again.
“I- I can’t love you Philip.” Her voice was strangely steady as she corrected herself. She had said the wrong thing. “No. I do- I love you. I’ve always loved you.” She was too afraid to remove herself from the comfort of her royal life, from the power that she possessed. As she spoke, her words grew stronger and her emotions clouded her vision. “I can’t love you like this, you know that. I’m buried in guilt and paranoia. Every moment with you is pure joy, and I feel as if I’m living in a world of good, rather than the world of hatred and corruption that I’ve helped create... God, to think of what Marcus would do. He would take no pity on you, and no sympathy for me. He would kill you!”
By the end Vivian’s hand was fisted around a lump of his white shirt, wrinkling it. A tear streamed down her face as she swallowed down the catch in her throat, then took in a deep breath of air, taking in the aroma that Philip possessed. Vivian wanted so badly to just go back to the party and stand with her husband on the stand and pretend that all was well.