Prodigy - Part Five
Later that night:
“Vincent, wake up!” I exclaimed as I pushed into his unconscious body. “Wake up this instant!”
“Wh-what is it?” Vincent’s voice was filled with confusion as sleep threatened to take him once more.
“We’ve got to leave this place, now.”
Hearing the urgency in my voice, the spell that sleep had on Vincent was broken. He slid out of bed and began dressing, but as soon as he was presentable, he finally asked what I had been dreading.
“What is the reason that we are leaving at such an hour, then?”
I stared at him in silence. How was I to tell him about the ghosts in the walls and how they beckoned every passing day that I must end his life and career before they ever really began? How could I tell him that my father left me with this insurmountable task to continue every aspect of his legacy?
“Our next painting, I know where it awaits us, but we must leave now if we are to beat the sun."
That was all that he needed to hear, all that any artist ever needs to hear. He believed he was truly following the whim of that fleeting enchantress we call inspiration, and he would follow us to the ends of the Earth. So, we ran to the harbor with nothing but the clothes on our backs and our supplies in hand, and boarded my father’s old ship.
“Where to, miss?” The captain asked, his voice hoarse from years at sea.
“To the island.”
The captain’s eyes widened, as if an apparition was standing before him giving him orders. “Y-yes ma’am.”
“Vincent, this trip takes almost a fortnight, but when we get there it will all be worth it.”
“Wait, that long?!” Vincent took a step back, “I thought we were to beat the sun?”
“Yes, there is more to see than just the island. Think of the journey, and all that we will see.”
I could see through the panic in his eyes that he was torn between staying with me, his mentor and possibly something more, and returning to the safety of dry land. I grabbed his hands and pulled them into my chest, kissing them softly in support, but they still felt cool and damp. A fortnight of his anxiety simply would not do.
“Come with me, Vincent.”
I held his hand and led him down into the ship’s chambers. Once the door shut behind us, I pushed myself into his arms and looked up at him with soft eyes.
“Everything is going to be okay.” I whispered into his ear.
I pushed my lips into his and shivers exploded through my body. I turned so that he would see the bed that waited for us deeper inside the room, and he pulled me towards it, carefully unlacing my corset as we approached.
After a most vigorous session, we lay together in bliss; every trace of his earlier anxieties had vanished and only our love remained. Sleep took us quickly and as I drifted off, I truly felt that I would finally have a peaceful rest.
“My dear daughter.” My father approached me once more, a combination of sadness and pride in his eyes, “You truly are an heir of the Friedrich dynasty.”
“Whatever do you mean, Father?” I was overtaken by confusion, “I abandoned my duties to be with the one that I love!”
“I know, and now you’ve got something to show for it, but you’ll be back at that house before too long and our legacy will persist.”
“I don’t understand, I chose love over duty. Why can’t you see that?”
“Oh my dear.” My father reached out and touched my shoulder, “So did I.”
Image: On the Sailing Boat by Caspar David Friedrich
