Elisabeta's Prince

'Into your arms my prince'

'Dead. He's dead. My dear, sweet, beloved prince...is dead.' Elisabeta could hardly believe it. She knew he would likely not return when he left, but...she had still held out hope.
The dirty crumpled note slipped effortlessly from her fingertips. She paid it no mind.
The only thing. The only person that had mattered to her, was now gone from this world. Everything they had dreamed of...
They were to be married...she was supposed to wear a flowing white gown. Hold a bouquet of flowers. Walk down a chapel isle to join him in holy matrimony.
Instead she wore tears, held heart breaking news, and will walk off the balcony to join him in death.

She would never again taste, smell, see, hear, or feel him. Feel his strong hands on her waist as they waltz together in dark candlelight. Feel the smooth wavy locks of his hair brush against her playfully. Hear his throaty, gorgeously accented voice speak abundant accolades of admiration.
See his soft brown eyes stare utterly devoutly into her equally doting, love sick gaze. Smell his familiar, comforting scent that oh so made her want to bury her face in him. Or taste his passionate kisses of ardor he reserved only for her.

Elisabeta could not bear to live this life without him.
Before she would depart on her joinery, she would at least leave her subjects with some closure. She fetched a quill and paper and painfully wrote her last, lamenting, letter.

Leaving it on the steps to the cross, she solemnly returned to the doorway carved out of the wall. Whether it was a doorway to heaven or hell she not know or care to think.

Her beautiful brown eyes didn't even look at the river below her. It's fervid flow of water paled in comparison to the ample sorrow that erupted from her shattered heart.
Slowly, she lifted her arms. And then her feet left the edge. As she fell forward, she could almost imagine falling into the arms of her beloved prince.