Tied to the Throne

chapter twenty two

I gradually awaken in the comfort of our cozy bed, basking in the warmth that emanates from his body beside me. A sense of contentment and bliss fills me, as I reflect on how smoothly our trip has been going. It's almost unbelievable how we have managed to bypass any disagreements or conflicts that typically arise between us. Given the frequency of our past disputes, it's truly impressive that we have been able to maintain such harmony during this journey.

"Morning," I hear Nikolai say next to me, his voice groggy and deep.

"Morning," I repeat smiling.

Relishing in the peaceful stillness of the morning, I am abruptly startled by a sudden knock at the door.

My heart jumps in my chest as I glance over at him, noticing that he too seems caught off guard. We exchange a quick, uncertain look before he gently pulls himself up and heads towards the door. The anticipation of what might be waiting on the other side fills me with a sense of trepidation, causing me to hold my breath and wait with bated anticipation. I can hear him fumbling with the lock and the sound of the door slowly creaking open, as my mind races with endless possibilities of what could be on the other side.

Outside the door we are not met with a person, but rather a letter. A fucking letter.

Scanning the vast expanse around us, there is a conspicuous absence of any human presence. No figures in the distance, no sounds of footsteps or chatter. We exchange glances of bewilderment, wondering where this had come from. In response, he emits a weary chuckle, his fatigue evident in the sound.

I bend down and pick up the piece of paper, my fingers gripping the old envelope. I take one last look around before closing the door.

"That was weird," Nikolai says, scrunching up his face. I make a noise of agreement.

He walks into the kitchen and starts pouring a glass of water, "Go on, open it then," he insists.

I walk towards him and position myself directly across from him, standing on the opposite side of the counter. I grab the nearest knife, and start to open the envelope carefully.

"It has your kingdom crest on it," I notice.

He leans over slightly and looks, face scrunching again, humming into his glass in acknowledgment.

As I continue to carefully open the envelope, I can't help but feel a sense of anticipation. My heart is racing, and my palms are a little sweaty. Finally, I manage to slide the letter out from its enclosure, unfolding it with trembling hands.

I unfold the paper and begin to read the letters. The letters on the paper appear to be hastily written, as if the writer was in a great hurry to jot down their thoughts. The ink has smeared in some places, creating blurry lines that make it difficult to decipher the text. The overall impression is one of disorganization and urgency, as if the writer was struggling to keep up with their own thoughts and was racing against time to put them down on paper. The words seem to spill out in a jumbled rush, giving the impression that the writer was not able to pause and collect their thoughts before committing them to paper.

And as my eyes scanned the words on the page, my breathe goes shallow, and I could barely find any air to breathe. Many gasps escape my mouth and my head feels light.

I felt as though the world had tilted on its axis, throwing me off balance and leaving me struggling to find my footing. The tears came in a sudden rush, hot and stinging as they streamed down my cheeks.

Nikolai puts his glass on the counter as soon as he sees my discern, and rushes over to me: stumbling and stuttering.

I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, my whole body trembling with a mix of fear and despair.

As he draws nearer, I can see the lines etched into his face, the worry etched deeply into his features.

"Arabella! What happened?" he says, bracing me, holding my arm and leading me against the counter. I can't even manage to make out any words through my sobbing, I just gesture my head towards the letter.

As I watch him hurry towards the counter, I can see the emotions etched deeply into his features. His eyes are wide and darting, scanning the surface of the counter with a frenzied urgency.

As soon as he spots the letter, his hand darts out to grab it, fingers closing around the envelope in a vice-like grip. I can see the tension in his muscles, the way his arm trembles slightly as he pulls the letter towards him.

His eyes are fixed on the paper, as if trying to read its contents through sheer force of will. I can see the fear and confusion writ large across his face, a reflection of the tumultuous emotions that must be raging within him.

With a deep breath, he begins to unfold the paper, his movements quick and decisive. I can hear the sound of paper tearing, the rustle of the pages as he begins to read.

And then, all at once, he slumps backwards, his eyes staring blankly ahead. I can see the color draining from his face, his body suddenly limp and lifeless.

It's as if the weight of the news contained within the letter has knocked him off his feet, leaving him struggling to find his balance in the face of such overwhelming emotion. For a moment, he is lost in a sea of fear and confusion, unable to make sense of what he has just read.

As the words sink in, I can see the impact of the news etched into his face. His eyes widen in shock, his brow furrows deeply as if trying to process the information. He blinks rapidly, as if hoping to shake off the weight of what he has just heard.

But then, something shifts. His expression becomes tight and closed off, as if he is trying to protect himself from the reality of the situation. His jaw sets stubbornly, and his lips press together in a thin line.

"It's not true. Tell me I've been lied to," he says, his voice low and flat.

There is a desperation in his words, a refusal to accept the truth of what he has been told. It's as if he is clinging to some small shred of hope, some flicker of a belief that this cannot possibly be happening.

His eyes narrow, as if trying to will away the sadness that threatens to overwhelm him. He shakes his head slowly, as if trying to shake off the weight of the news.

But even as he tries to deny it, I can see the tears beginning to well up in his eyes. His breath hitches, and I can hear the catch in his throat as he struggles to hold back the flood of emotion that threatens to consume him.

It's a heartbreaking sight, watching him try to cling to hope even as his world crumbles around him. But in that moment, I know that I have to be there for him, to offer comfort and support in whatever way I can.

"I'm so sorry," I sob out, shuffling over to my husband and embracing the man.

"We need to leave, pack your bags."

"Nik-" I try and plead with him.

"NO! WE ARE LEAVING!"

My heart races as his outburst echoes through the room. The suddenness and intensity of his words startles me, and I feel a jolt of fear run through my body. The air seems to crackle with the energy of his anger, and I can feel my skin prickle with unease.

His voice cracks as he screams, the raw emotion of the moment spilling out in a torrent of sound. His hand comes up to cover his mouth, as if trying to stifle the sound, but it's too late. The outburst has already filled the room, leaving me feeling small and vulnerable in its wake.

As he stands there, his hand running through his hair in a gesture of distress, I can see the turmoil etched into his features. His eyes dart around the room, searching for something, anything, to hold onto.

But it's clear that there is no escaping the reality of the situation. His outburst was a manifestation of the fear and desperation that he must be feeling, a way of lashing out in the face of the unknown.

I take a step back, giving him some space to work through his emotions. I can see that he is struggling to regain his composure.

I walk to our room and begin to pack.

Nothing will ever be the same.

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what could the letter have said? who knows... thanks for reading
1496 words