Andrellia

2. Alaric

Queen Ilara swept into Alaric's chambers, her gaze snagging on the way he stiffened in surprise, clutching his arm close to his body. The clink of armor being fastened ceased abruptly.

"Captain Alaric," she said, her voice laced with a regal command that brooked no argument. "At ease. Though, I see 'at ease' might be a relative term, considering the state of your armor." Alaric straightened, his face paling slightly.

"Your Majesty," he stammered, bowing. "I... I was just about to..."

"Indeed," the Queen cut in, her eyes narrowing. "And about time too. From what I've gathered in the reports, you seem to be under the impression that battlefield injuries heal with willpower alone."

Alaric's hand instinctively went back to his arm, a flicker of pain crossing his face. "Forgive me, Your Majesty," he mumbled. "It's just a minor wound"

"A minor wound that the healers haven't had a chance to examine, thanks to your misplaced sense of duty," the Queen countered, her voice sharp. "Undress. That's an order."

Alaric's jaw clenched for a brief moment, but then he slowly began to unfasten his armor, his expression a mixture of shame and defiance.
The Queen watched him, her eyes never leaving his form. She knew his loyalty ran deep, but she also knew that unchecked, it could turn into recklessness. And that, she wouldn't tolerate.

Queen Ilara's voice was a whip as Alaric gingerly removed his armor, each piece clinking against the floor like a rebuke. Her sharp eyes scanned his torso, taking in the damage the steel had hidden. It wasn't one wound, but three - a testament to his bravery or perhaps his recklessness. Fury coiled in her chest, laced with a deep pang of concern she couldn't disguise.

"Three, Captain," she spat, her voice laced with icy steel. "Not one, not two, but three?! On your knees!" Alaric's bravado crumbled. Shame flushed his face as he sank to his knees, his head hanging low.

"Yes, Your Highness," he mumbled, the defiance in his voice replaced by a tremor of defeat.

"You dare lie to your Queen?" Ilara roared, her voice echoing through the chamber. Anger, hot and bright, burned in her red-rimmed eyes. Yet, a flicker of something else danced beneath the fury - a worry she couldn't suppress."Three wounds, Captain, and not a single one reported," she pressed on. "Do you think yourself invincible?"

Alaric flinched at her outburst, but a flicker of defiance sparked in his eyes. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but then stopped. The Queen's anger was a storm, but beneath it, he sensed a well of concern he couldn't ignore.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," he rasped. The words came out rough, laced with shame and a silent gratitude for her underlying worry. "They are mere scratches, truly. I didn't want to burden the healers with such minor..."

"Do not lie to me further!" Ilara thundered, cutting him off. The force of her anger sent shivers down Alaric's spine. "Your wounds may seem insignificant to you, but they are a sign of recklessness, Captain. A knight who prioritizes pride over prudence is a danger to himself and his Queen."

She took a measured step closer, her voice dropping to a low growl. "Place your face on the floor," she commanded. "A true knight knows obedience, even when it stings."

Humiliation washed over Alaric, burning hotter than any wound. He pressed his forehead against the cold stone floor, the sting a welcome counterpoint to the turmoil within him. The battles of war, was a storm he could weather. The Queen's anger stung him harder than any physical blow. A beat of silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken sentiment.

The Queen's lips twitched at the corners as Alaric flinched when the cool water touched his first wound. Here she was, a woman who could strategize a siege and command a battlefield, now reduced to dabbing at a scrape with a damp cloth. And her Captain, the very picture of stoicism during countless battles, was wincing like a child at a scraped knee.

"Seems battlefield wounds are one thing, Captain," she said, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes, "but a little cleaning solution is quite another."

Alaric, cheeks warming under her gaze, mumbled an apology. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. It smarts more than I expected."

The amusement in the Queen's eyes deepened, a playful glint that sent a shiver down Alaric's spine. "Don't fret, Alaric," she said, her voice softer now. "This is just a mild antiseptic. The real sting will come from the lecture you're about to receive about battlefield recklessness."

A wry smile tugged at Alaric's lips. He couldn't help but appreciate the Queen's shift in demeanor. The fierce anger had softened into a playful teasing, a sign perhaps that her concern for him outweighed her initial fury.
"I assure you, Your Majesty," he replied, his voice regaining its usual strength, "I will learn from this... oversight."

The Queen continued cleaning his wounds, her movements efficient yet gentle. The amusement hadn't entirely faded from her eyes, but a new warmth had entered them as well. Perhaps, tending to his wounds wasn't just about reprimanding him. Perhaps, it was also a strange sort of intimacy, a veiled dance between Queen and Captain.

As she finished bandaging the last wound, she met his gaze, a playful glint lingering. "There," she said, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "That should hold. Consider this a lesson, Captain. Next time, a simple scratch won't require such... royal intervention."

Alaric felt a blush creep up his neck. Here she was, the Queen, tending to him like a commoner's wife, yet maintaining a teasing distance that both frustrated and intrigued him. He couldn't deny the strange pull he felt towards her, a mix of respect, admiration, and a spark of something more.

"Perhaps, Your Majesty," he conceded, his voice a touch husky, "but I wouldn't trade this... punishment for anything."

The Queen's lips curved into a genuine smile, a rare sight that sent a jolt through Alaric. "We shall see about that, Captain," she replied, her voice a playful challenge. "Now, rise slowly. Don't want you further injuring yourself on the way out."

Alaric rose gingerly, the Queen's playful demeanor both a relief and a torment. Their relationship, a tightrope walk between duty and a simmering attraction, was exhilarating and confusing all at once. As he turned to leave, the Queen's voice stopped him.

"Captain Alaric," she said, her voice softer now, the amusement replaced by a hint of concern. "Do take care of yourself. The kingdom needs its loyal Captain, even if he is a bit... accident-prone."

Alaric met her gaze, a silent promise passing between them. He bowed, the formality a mask for the turmoil within. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I will not disappoint."
He left the room, the Queen's playful concern echoing in his ears. The punishment might have been a light sting, but the lingering memory of the Queen's touch, and the unspoken tension between them, promised to burn longer, a fire he wasn't sure he could control.