The rain poured down.

This transfixed her the most as she lay where she did. She laid in the arms of a boy, not yet a man. She lay in his small bed, in his small house. He had fallen asleep just before the rain had started to fall. She pushed his arm off of her bare torso, sitting up. She took the sheet with her, wrapping it around her body. She was not yet ready to go back to the stifling confines of her clothes.

Her bare feet barely made any sound against the cold, dirt floor. She cast a look back at the boy, his outline barely visible in the grey light. How could he live like this? She had never imagined that the conditions he lived in could be so completely different from her own. She took a deep breath, and crossed to the window. There was evidence that a piece of cloth – perhaps some kind of sack – had once hung there and protected the inside of the home from the elements, but that sack was gone now.

She braced her forearms on the window, propping herself up. She kept one hand clamped down onto her makeshift dress. The streets were empty. The rain was the only thing out there. It covered everything. The heavens themselves were opening up, crying. She closed her eyes, blocking out the water, but the falling drops stayed imprinted on her eyelids.

Her heart was breaking in her chest. She knew what the rain was. She knew why it had gone from sunny to a never ending rainstorm in a few short minutes. It was her fault. It was an omen from the gods. She wasn't supposed to be in this little house, with the boy. No matter what she wanted for herself, this wasn't her destiny.

A tear fell from her eye. It fell on the windowsill, disguised among the other small water drops. She took a deep breath, looking around the room. The boy didn't have much, but she knew what he would have. She turned her back to the window, crossing to the kitchen table. Writing utensils and parchment were waiting there, as though they knew all along she would need them. Biting her lip, she tried to pick up the quill, but she could not make herself. Not quite yet.

Instead, she went back to the bed. She unraveled the sheet from her body, placing it at the foot of the bed. She picked up her elaborate, over the top gown. She shimmied into it. The corset was difficult to lace without her usual maidservants, but she managed. She tried to take her time, tried to draw out every moment she spent in his presence, though he slumbered on.

All too soon, she was dressed, with only one task still left. She went back to the table. She picked up the quill, though it no longer touched her bare skin. Her hands were gloved in fine black silk now. She stretched out the parchment. She dipped the quill in the inkwell and wrote. She wrote for what seemed like hours, but could only be seconds in time. Tears were cascading freely down her cheeks by the time she set the quill aside. She gathered the parchment in her arms and walked back to her love for the last time.

He was peaceful in sleep. She longed to wake him, to have him gather her back in his arms and kiss her again. Instead, she looked out the window where it was raining harder than ever. She could not ignore this. The truth was spelled out in a million falling raindrops. She and he were never to be. She arranged the parchment beside him, in the space where her head had been not so long ago. She kissed his cheek, the last trace of her make-up rubbing off there. A tear splattered against his ratty mattress. A sob rose into her throat.

She went to the door as quickly as she could without making too much noise. She opened the door. She looked back once, twice, hesitating. She could stay. As wrong as it was, she could stay and disappear and hide while everything here fell apart. No. With a final look at him, committing the boy she could never see again to memory, she threw herself into the rain. She ran. Her high shoes stuck in the mud. Sobs built in her throat as she flew past houses. When she reached the more upscale area, her shoes clattered against the cobbled roads.

She was soaked to the bone. Her dress was a hundred pounds heavier. Her hair clung to her wet skin, falling into her eyes. She was in front of the cathedral when she skidded to a halt. She knew that she would be missed at home, but she had to go inside. She climbed the stone steps, pushing open the heavy doors. The vaulted ceiling was high above her. She was completely alone.

She moved to the alter. She collapsed down onto her knees. She knew this was when she should repent for her sins. This is when she should beg for the gods to forgive her, to not bring their wrath down on her home. But, she found herself looking at pieces of artwork of the divine beings and she screamed. "WHY?"

She stayed there until her throat was raw and her chest was heaving. She stayed there until her knees locked in place and her skin dried. She could have stayed for a thousand years, but she never would have gotten her answer. She rose, going back to the heavy doors. She pushed them open, and stepped back into the rain.

It was the rain that woke him, pattering heavily on everything. Eyes still closed, he reached for her. But, she wasn't there. He pulled his eyes open, but she was not here. He sat up, feeling a crunch under his hand. He picked up a piece of parchment.

Dear Gregory,

Don't come looking for me. Don't contact me again. This is how it has to be. Thank you for loving me, for teaching me what it means to love. I will never forget you; you will be in my heart always. Perhaps in another life, we could have been.

Princess Anetta.

She watched the rain for two weeks straight. She watched the rain until her wedding day, when the sun shone bright and clear. When she walked into the cathedral and said her vows to a prince she didn't even know, she couldn't even look at the bright sunshine. She wanted to look at the rain and think of the lonely farm boy she would never see again.

Not historically accurate in any way! What do you think?