Nikolai P.O.V
"NO! NO!" The anguished cry escapes my lips, shattering the stillness of the battlefield. The world blurs as the shock overwhelms me, a tidal wave of despair crashing over the once tumultuous war zone. Her eyes close, sealing an unbearable truth that reverberates through my soul.
A profound silence descends upon the battleground, a stark contrast to the previous cacophony of conflict. Every gaze converges on the heartbreaking scene, my dying wife lying there, a poignant tableau amidst the chaos. Benedict, a steadfast ally, rushes to my side, his presence a feeble attempt to anchor me in the face of this insurmountable loss.
In a desperate frenzy, I seize my silk mask and tear it away, the fabric yielding to my distressed hands. No longer concerned about the prying eyes of comrades or foes, I expose my face to the world. Unhinged, I succumb to the raw torrent of emotions that surge forth. Sobs convulse through my body, screams pierce the heavy air, and tears cascade in an unrelenting torrent, each drop a testament to the agony etched into my very being.
Benedict kneels beside me, his attempts to calm me down a soothing murmur against the symphony of grief. "I'm so sorry," he utters softly, his words like a fragile lifeline in the tempest of sorrow.
The battlefield, once a maelstrom of conflict, now becomes a stage for this personal tragedy. The memory of Benedict's frantic attempts to revive her replays in my mind—a desperate struggle against the cruel whims of fate. Every futile effort etches itself into the fabric of my soul, the helplessness of the situation searing through my consciousness.
The air is heavy with the scent of blood and despair, a tangible manifestation of the toll exacted by war. I remain fixated on her, my wife, lying there in the cradle of suffering, her eyes forever closed. The world, now stripped of its former chaos, seems suspended in this harrowing moment, as if time itself has come to a standstill amidst the wreckage of dreams and promises.
Benedict's presence, though well-intentioned, is a mere flicker in the engulfing darkness. The battlefield, now a solemn witness to personal tragedy, echoes with the heart-wrenching symphony of loss, each note a reminder of a love extinguished too soon.
I shake my head again, tears streaming down my face...
She's dead.
Right?
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hmmmmmm
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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...
