Tied to the Throne

chapter forty three

The battlefield stretches out, a vast expanse of innocent greenery that belies the impending violence. It's a taunt, a tranquil canvas that will soon be stained with the crimson price of conflict. The very grass beneath our feet seems oblivious, unaware that its blades will soon be dyed red with the lives of men.

A far away murmur reaches my ears, the faint roar of the approaching enemy, a chilling herald of what's to come.

I glance at my husband, his voice rising above the quietude as he issues rapid orders to the men behind us. The horses, our swift companions, are to remain here. We continue on foot down the hill; there's to be no faltering, no hesitation. We march forward, resolute in our purpose.

Tension hangs heavy in the air, a palpable blend of anticipation and unease. Each breath carries the weight of impending conflict as our forces prepare for the inevitable engagement.

"We fight for the crown! No retreat!" His command echoes across the field, rallying every soul present.

The ground quivers beneath us, as if anticipating the impending clash. I brace myself, knowing that this serene landscape will soon transform into a battleground, where bravery and sacrifice will intertwine, forever altering the innocence of this once-peaceful expanse.

The distant rumble of the enemy's approach grew louder, sending tremors through my soul. With every step closer, the weight of the impending battle pressed upon me, suffocating in its inevitability.

As the first clash of steel reverberated in the distance, I closed my eyes, sending a silent plea to the heavens. I have never been one to believe in God, but right now in this moment I am praying to him and the angels above to keep us safe. To keep us alive.

The tranquility shatters. The battlefield erupts into a cacophony of chaos. The clash of steel, the thundering of hooves, and the distant cries of men merged into a deafening symphony of war. Smoke billowing on the horizon as the opposing forces collided, ushering in a tumultuous storm of conflict.

The thunderous momentum of our army charging down the hill is irresistible, drawing me into the heart of the turmoil. With every step, the ground trembles beneath me, matching the rhythm of my racing heart. There's no turning back now; I'm committed to this path, swept away in a tide of duty and inevitability.

Across the field, Salvatore's army hurtles down their own hill, rapidly closing the distance between us. Dread claws at my insides, threatening to overwhelm me. Fear courses through my veins, an icy grip that threatens to paralyze every fiber of my being. But in the midst of this terrifying moment, I'm compelled by the weight of responsibility.

For the future that hangs in the balance, for the kingdom's welfare, I must push through the turmoil. Every fiber of my being screams against this senseless conflict, but I'm bound by duty, by the decisions made for the greater good. For myself, for Nikolai, and for the life that grows within me, I'm propelled forward into the fray, determined to see this harrowing ordeal through to whatever end awaits.

I grip onto my sword tight, adjusting my hand, ready to fight. All those little spare with my older brother will not go to waste, I will fight, and I will fight well.

The two armies collide in a deafening clash. It is chaos—a whirlwind of clashes and shouts, the air thick with the tension of imminent conflict. The battleground becomes a maelstrom of struggle and bravery as the forces clash in a tumultuous collision.

I am met with a man who looks far too young to be here, his sword too big for him. I hit his armoured waist and he sloppily clashed his blade against my arm. I feel bad for the boy, he has no idea how to fight, and he is destined for death. I almost cannot fathom killing him, taking a poor mother's son - but this is war, kill or be killed. Hesitating will have me on the end of a blade, so I have no choice.

I manoeuvre my sword under his and with force, quickly jolt upwards, releasing the heavy blade from his hands.

With the sword now unarmed, I quickly move my legs behind his knee and bring him down, now in a position of power against the man; the enemy. With heavy regret I rapidly flick my eyes around his body to find a place where armour does not shield his body. I have to ingots his pleasing gaze, staring into my soul, awaiting the bitterness of death. My breathing rapidly increases as I bring the blade up to his neck and cut.

I cut his neck.

I kill him.

And this was bound to be the first of many. As just as his last breath is taken I have no time to mourn as a much larger man lunges towards me. And all I can do is fight, and pray that William's teaching would bring me justice.

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Death.

It is all that surrounds me.

After far too many hours of fighting, taking lives, protecting my own, the day has come to a rest. Nightfall is upon us and the rescission has been made to retreat for the day.

I believe we are only just winning in numbers, but as I look into the red-stained field, it feels as if no one is winning. I mean truly, in a war there is no winner. How can there be? Either way far too many men loose their lives, parents's loose their sons, children loose their fathers, wives loose their husbands.

Death is the only thing to come from war.

To win, feels too much like a loss.

"Nik?" I ask, seeking refuge from the chaos we've just ignited.

"What?" His voice lacks its usual soothing quality.

"How long will this last?"

He takes off his mask within the shelter of the canvas tent, meeting my gaze. "It could be months, it could be a week. Only time will tell."

The uncertainty looms, the words lingering in the air, casting a foreboding shadow over our situation. The realization dawns on me, our fate hanging on the whims of an unpredictable future.

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