THE KING'S POSSESSION

Chapter 84

Chapter 84: Ilyana Archer

Empress Ilyana was startled awake by a sudden crack of thunder that rattled the windows of the imperial palace. The storm outside mirrored the unrest brewing within her as she heard the cries of her newborn daughter. Groaning softly, she reached out for her husband, Alistair, only to find his side of the bed cold and empty. There was a sense of unease that was settling in her chest, but she pushed it aside, determined to tend to her child.

With a sigh, she reached for the lamp on the bedside table, its soft glow illuminating her delicate features. She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and stepped into the dimly lit corridor. The sound of rain lashing against the palace walls mingled with the cries of her baby, guiding her steps toward the nursery.

As she approached the door to the nursing chamber, Ilyana felt a strange tension in the air. She hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering over the doorknob, before pushing it open. The scene before her made her blood run cold.

There, in the flickering lamplight, stood Alistair, his lips pressed against the wet nurse, Teressa. The sight of them in an intimate embrace, their shadows entwined on the wall, was a betrayal that struck Ilyana to her core. She gasped, a sound barely audible over the storm outside, but it was enough to make them spring apart.

Teressa stumbled back, her face paling as guilt and fear washed over her. In a desperate act of contrition, she dropped to her knees and bowed her head to the floor. "My Empress," she whispered, her voice trembling with shame.

But Alistair's expression hardened as he turned to face Ilyana, a flicker of defiance in his eyes. The empress stood tall, her face a mask of calm, though her heart pounded fiercely within her chest.

"Ilyana," Alistair began, his voice was both of irritation and defensiveness. "I didn't expect you to be awake."

Ilyana's gaze was steady, her voice cool and controlled. "Clearly," she replied, the single word heavy with meaning.

Alistair's face twisted with frustration, and he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "This isn't what it looks like," he snapped, though even he didn't seem convinced by his own words. "Or maybe it is. But what do you care, Ilyana? You're always so perfect, so untouchable. What would a mere farmer like me mean to you, anyway?"

His words were laced with bitterness, and Ilyana felt a pang of sadness at the depth of his insecurity. But she refused to show any weakness. "You think your infidelity is justified by your perceived inadequacy?" she asked, her tone as sharp as a blade. "You were chosen for this life, Alistair. I chose you, believing you were strong enough to stand by my side."

Truly for Ilyana, she loves her farmer husband from the bottom of her heart.

And yet even with her calmness, Alistair scoffed while his anger boiled over. "Chosen?" he spat. "You chose me because you needed someone to play the role of the dutiful consort. But I've never been anything more than a prop in your perfect empire. A farmer doesn't belong in a palace, and I've always known that."

Ilyana took a step forward, her eyes blazing with anger and disappointment. "You are my husband, the father of my child. You swore an oath to be faithful, to support me and our family. If you feel unworthy, that is a burden you must carry. It does not excuse your actions."

Alistair's fists clenched as his eyes darkened with resentment. "And what about you, Ilyana? Do you even feel anything? Do you ever let yourself be vulnerable, or are you too afraid to show any weakness? You put on this facade of strength, but it's just a mask to hide behind."

But the empress stood her ground, her expression unyielding. "I will not be blamed for your insecurities," she said, her voice unwavering. "You made your choices, Alistair. Do not attempt to place the blame on me."

The air between them crackled with tension, the storm outside a mere whisper compared to the tempest raging within the room. Teressa stood frozen, her eyes darting between the two of them, unsure of what to do.

After a moment, Ilyana turned her gaze to the wet nurse. "Leave us," she commanded, her voice firm. Teressa nodded quickly and scurried out of the room, leaving the couple alone.

Alistair's shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him. He looked at Ilyana with both regret and defiance. "I loved you," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "But I can't be what you want me to be."

Ilyana's heart ached at his words, but she refused to let it show. "You don't get to dictate who I am or what I want," she replied coldly. "And you certainly don't get to use that as an excuse for your betrayal."

With that, she turned and walked over to the crib where their baby girl lay, her cries now softened to whimpers. Gently, Ilyana picked up the infant and held her close, finding comfort in the warmth of her child's presence.

Alistair watched them for a moment, his face a mask of conflicted emotions, before he turned and left the room without another word. The door closed behind him with a soft thud, leaving Ilyana alone with her daughter. She looked down at the innocent face of her baby and whispered softly, "It seems you are the only one I have, my love... my Isabella..."

But that was what she thought for in the very next morning, Ilyana awoke to a chilling emptiness. The cradle where Isabella had slept was empty, replaced by a single piece of parchment. Her heart pounded as she reached for the letter, her hands trembling. As she unfolded it, she read Alistair's hurried scrawl:

"My beloved Ilyana,

By the time you read this, Isabella will be far away from the palace walls. I couldn't bear the thought of her growing up in a place where she'll always be seen as the child of a commoner, forever overshadowed by the royal expectations she never asked for. I want our daughter to know a life free from judgment, where she can be loved for who she is, not what her lineage dictates.

Teressa and I are taking her somewhere safe, where she can grow up as a farmer's daughter, not an empress's child. I believe this is the best decision for her, even if it breaks your heart and mine. This life, the palace, was never meant for me, and I can't let it define Isabella's future. She deserves a simple, happy life—one we can't provide her here.

Please, don't come looking for us. This is the only way I know to protect her from a life of scrutiny and expectations that she never chose. I'm sorry for the pain this causes you, but I hope, in time, you'll understand. I'm doing this because I love her too much to let her be trapped in a world that will never truly accept her.

Alistair."

The words felt like a knife twisting in her chest. The betrayal was sharp and painful, not only because Alistair had taken their daughter but because he had taken away her chance to be a mother to Isabella. His misguided love had robbed her of the one thing she cherished most.

And as Ilyana finished reading the letter, a wave of raw emotion crashed over her. Her usually calm and composed demeanor crumbled, and for the first time, her beautiful blue eyes brimmed with tears of anger and heartbreak. The tears welled up and spilled over, tracing lines down her cheeks, failing her usual regal poise.

Unable to contain the storm of emotions swirling inside her, Ilyana let out a cry of anguish. Her voice echoed through the empty room. The sound was guttural, raw, and unrestrained—a powerful release of the pain and betrayal she felt. She sank to her knees, clutching the letter to her chest as if it could somehow bring her daughter back.

The empress's cry reverberated through the palace, a haunting wail that spoke of a mother's profound loss and the shattering of her heart. It was a moment of vulnerability, a rare glimpse into the depths of her soul, where her love for her child and the agony of separation laid bare. In that moment, the strength of the empress melted away, leaving only a grieving mother, broken and lost in the emptiness left behind.