The Gaze of a King

Chapter Fifty- Four | Confidante

I awaken to the gentle sound of David's breathing beside me. His arm, heavy with the weariness of his years and burdens, rests across my waist. The dawn's light slips through the cracks of the windows, painting faint lines across the room, and I lie still, listening to the rhythm of his breath.

He stirs, slowly at first, and then his eyes open, finding mine. There is a softness in them that I rarely see, a gentleness that is often hidden beneath the weight of his crown, the weight of his sins and grief.

"Bathsheba," he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep. "You're here."

"I am," I say softly, my fingers brushing his beard. He smiles, and for a moment, the lines of his face soften, the years fall away, and he is just a man, my husband, not the king who carries the sorrows of a kingdom on his shoulders.

David shifts closer to me, his hand moving to cup my face. "You have stood by me through all things, Bathsheba," he says, his eyes searching mine. "Through my faults, through the blood on my hands, the loss of our son, and the rebellion that took my son... you have not turned away, though I'm sure you have wanted to several times."

My breath catches at the mention of Absalom, a pain that still feels fresh, as if it were yesterday. I see the flicker of regret in his eyes, a wound that time cannot heal. But I say nothing. I am here, still by his side.

David takes a deep breath and sits up slowly, as if the weight of his own words is too much. "I pledge my loyalty to you, Bathsheba," he says with a fervency that makes my heart quicken. "Not just as my wife, but as my confidante, my strength. I see now what I have failed to see before — you are my rock in this storm."

I blink back the sudden tears that well in my eyes. His words are a balm, a healing I did not know I needed. "And I will stand by you, David," I whisper. "As long as I have breath in my body."

He nods, a new determination in his gaze. "I want you by my side, Bathsheba. Truly by my side, not just as my wife, but as my advisor. I trust no one more than you. Your wisdom, your grace... these are the things our court needs, now more than ever."

I am silent for a moment, the weight of his words settling over me. An advisor? In the court? It is an honor I never imagined, a role given only to men, and I feel a flutter of uncertainty in my chest. "Are you certain, David?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper. "There are those who would question this, who would challenge you."

He laughs, a low, soft sound that rumbles through the room. "Let them question," he says. "Let them challenge. I have made many mistakes, but this I know — you are a blessing to this kingdom, Bathsheba."

I reach for his hand, squeezing it tight. "If this is what you wish, my king..."

He presses his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin. "It is what I wish," he murmurs. "I owe you that much, Bathsheba."

I close my eyes, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat against my palm, and in this moment, I believe him. I believe in us, despite all that has come before, despite all that may come. I believe in this fragile peace we have found, this new beginning.

David's fingers stroke my hair, and he presses a gentle kiss to my temple. "You are my light, Bathsheba," he whispers. "In you, I find my strength."

"Thank you," I reply, my voice steady now, filled with a resolve I did not know I possessed.

"Never thank me, my dear. I am indebted to you. Always."

We lie there for a moment longer, the dawn slowly creeping in. A new day has begun, where I am no longer just a wife or mother, but a voice in the court, a force beside my king. The honor is overwhelming. It brings joy to my wretched, grieving heart. I do not take for granted the immense gift he has bestowed on me. Before we rise from the bed to start the new day, I kiss him with all the strength I possess. It is a desperate kiss, a claiming kiss burning with all the emotions I keep locked away inside. The fire it ignites consumes us both. In our brokenness we cling to each other, attempting to be whole.

He pulls away abruptly, leaving me breathless from our shared kisses, my hands still poised in the air. I blink softly at him, searching his face. My eyebrows knit together in confusion. Seeing the question in my eyes and the worry, he gives me a tight smile.

"I don't want to hurt you... you're still healing."

His concern for my wellbeing warms the hallow space in my chest. I give him a reassuring smile.

"I am well. The midwife examined me a few days ago. You won't hurt me... as long as you're gentle," I whisper.

His face lights up once more with the desire I sparked previously in him. He gently cups my cheek with his calloused, firm hand. The tip of his nose nuzzles against mine. I feel the softness of his breath tickle my lips.

"I can be gentle," he promises, mischievously.

"Oh?"

"Very gentle," He says as he plants a feathery kiss in the crook of my neck. Then all down the length of my body, taking his time to savor every inch of me. With every touch desire pools in my belly, aching with the need to be whole- to drown out the pain of loss until I can no longer feel its wretched sting... Until all I feel is him and his love for me. The sounds of our pleasure tear through the morning silence as he makes love to me.