The two weeks were up.
The war is to begin.
Athline vs Maypuck.
Would anyone make it out alive?
Lying intertwined in our bed, I find solace in tracing shapes across his chest while he gently runs his hands through my hair. The comfort of this moment makes me wish time would stand still, yet the impending departure looms over us.
"Do you have to leave?" I ask once more, a futile plea hoping to alter the inevitable.
"You know the answer to that, Bell. But after this is over, we will have everything," he reassures, his hand resting on my stomach, a silent acknowledgment of the life growing within me.
The realization of the tiny thing inside me still leaves me in awe. Though it may be the size of a pea now, it carries the promise of growth and eventual existence.
Our baby.
The heir to Athline.
"Yes, yes we will," I reply, sealing our shared hope and anticipation with one last kiss, smiling into his mouth.
"Maybe I could come with you," I jest, though a part of me hopes he'll consider it, longing to be by his side.
"Of course not, love. Not when you are with child. I need you to be safe, here," his genuine concern shines through as he dismisses the idea, prioritizing my safety above all else.
Reality settles heavily upon me as I realize he'll be gone for an extended period. The stark truth sinks in—there's a chance I may never see him again.
"Promise you'll come home, for us?" I plead, aware of the impossibility of such a pledge. He simply nods, understanding the weight behind my request, and starts preparing to depart, leaving the bed and readying himself for what's to come.
-
The sight of Nikolai, adorned in his armor alongside Benedict and Matteo with their steeds by their side, triggers a surge of desperation within me. Despite joking earlier, I find myself pleading with him, unable to suppress the need to be by his side.
"Please let me come with you, Nik," I murmur into his ear, the urgency and earnestness in my voice unmistakable.
He withdraws, sensing the gravity of my plea this time, realizing it's not a jest. His refusal remains firm, adamant about keeping me safe.
The weight of his departure intensifies as I grapple with the reality of him leaving alone. The ache in my heart grows as the possibility of him not returning becomes more tangible.
"I am not joking, please? I cannot bear to send you off without knowing whether you will return or not," I implore, my desperation escalating.
His expression shifts to anger, his resolve unyielding. "No," he states firmly, a finality in his tone that leaves me feeling powerless and distraught.
I must find a way.
The tension rises as I attempt to assert my authority, only to be swiftly cut off by Nikolai.
"I am your Queen—" I begin, but he interrupts with his own proclamation, "And I am your King."
Refusing to back down, I assert my desire to join him, my words fueled by determination. "I am your Queen, and I am telling you to let me join you. Let me fight with you!" I ignore his protests, pleading once more.
But his refusal remains firm. "No, Arabella. You will not come, not with your condition," he asserts, his choice of words causing my face to scrunch up in frustration.
"I can fight, I can help. I will be there for you. What I will not do is stay here, uncertain of your return!" I counter, my fears and uncertainties laid bare.
"You cannot—" he attempts to interject, but I cut him off, my mind made up.
"I am coming, that is final," I declare, a sense of resolution solidifying within me, despite his protests.
Nikolai's frustration simmers, evident in his words as he punches the nearby piece of white silk in anger, his tone laced with discontent. "You will be the death of me."
His mood remains grim as he commands one of the maids, his voice sharp and commanding, "Get me a two man saddle and armor for my wife" he spits out.
Then, turning to me with a resolve that brooks no argument, he declares, "You will ride with me."
I cannot protest anymore, I am just happy he is letting me join him, reluctantly albeit, but he is letting me come. That is more than I can ask for.
-
Adorned in my armor, I cling to my husband tightly, attempting to maintain my balance at the rear of the horse. The ride has been silent, with Nikolai not uttering a word during our journey. Uncertain of our destination, I can only assume by the persistent snow that we're heading south.
"Alright! The sun is setting. We will make camp just up here!" Nikolai's voice cuts through the air, commanding the attention of the army trailing behind.
The horses halt, and a hum of conversation ensues, the soldiers preparing to set up camp as the day draws to a close. Despite the chatter around us, the silence between Nikolai and me remains, creating a palpable tension in the air.
As the sun gradually dips below the horizon, casting an orange glow across the snowy landscape, the soldiers busy themselves, setting up their tents and organizing for the night ahead. Amidst the preparations, Benedict's approach catches my eye. He's smiling, bearing what passes for dinner in these conditions—rations more than a proper meal.
"You made your way in then?" He asks me, chuckling.
Benedict's casual inquiry catches me off guard, and I glance uncomfortably at Nikolai before nodding, forcing a thin smile.
"Can you fight?" Benedict's query comes between bites of the unappealing rice and bean meal.
"Umm, sort of. My brother and I used to spar all the time when I was younger. He taught me how to fight with a sword," I respond, memories of training sessions with William flooding back.
Benedict offers a few words of approval before requesting a moment alone with Nikolai. I nod in acquiescence, silently retreating toward my tent, leaving them to their conversation.
The sudden yell from a group of young men catches me off guard, their laughter and mocking tone echoing through the campsite, "Who let the woman come?"
The disbelief washes over me. Do they truly not recognize who I am? Or perhaps they do not care...
I try to maintain my composure, attempting to ignore their taunts as I make my way closer to the tent. But their catcalls persist, their voices trailing after me, leaving an uncomfortable sense of vulnerability in their wake.
The unwelcome catcalls are suddenly interrupted as a hand wraps around my waist, and a familiar voice booms in response to the taunters, "She is your queen; my wife."
Oh shit.
My heart skips a beat, Nikolai has come to my defence as the leader of this - his army.
Glancing back at the man who had shouted, I see his face drained of color, fear etched across his features, clearly regretting his ill-advised actions.
Nikolai's intervention leaves me feeling both grateful and relieved. I meet his gaze, offering a quiet smile of appreciation before making my way inside our tent.
He only looks annoyed.
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Tied to the Throne
Romance"This marriage is nothing but an alliance to me. Don't expect anything else, because you won't get it. I will never love you." "It felt as if my parents had tied me to the throne. Tied me to him." - A princess and a prince, forced into a marriage th...
