THE TYRANT'S BABY

Chapter 14

Chapter 14: Saved

"Silence!" Alaric thundered again, his voice cutting through the stunned silence that had fallen over the execution grounds. His chest heaved with barely restrained fury as he cradled Amaris closer, her unconscious form resting heavily in his arms. The warmth of her body against his own only seemed to heighten the storm of emotions swirling within him.

"You will answer for your actions," he snarled, his voice dropping low but filled with deadly intent. "Every. Single. One. Of. You."

For the first time, those present saw something in their king they had never expected-- desperation. Alaric, who had been groomed from childhood to be heartless, indifferent, and cruel, now stood disheveled and on the edge of losing control. His eyes, usually cold and calculating, now blazed with unrestrained anger, and his usually impeccable composure was nowhere to be found.

The servants and guards, who had known him as a man of calculated ruthlessness, exchanged nervous glances, utterly bewildered. This was not the king they had served—this was a man on the verge of breaking, consumed by an emotion they had never thought possible from him.

Alaric's fists clenched tighter around Amaris, as if letting her go meant losing something irreplaceable. His gaze swept over the crowd, locking on each person with a fury that made them avert their eyes in terror. It was as though, for the first time, the walls of the king's unfeeling facade were crumbling, revealing a man who, for reasons none of them could fully grasp, was willing to unleash his wrath in defense of a mere servant girl.

Alaric tossed the sword aside, its clatter barely registering as his hand trembled lightly, reaching out for Amaris' pale face. His fingers brushed against her cold lips, and the chill of her skin sent a pang of fear through him. Without a moment's hesitation, he lifted her into his arms, cradling her as though she were the most precious thing in his world.

The crowd bowed instantly, avoiding his gaze, but more than that, they avoided witnessing the undeniable tenderness with which their king—a man feared for his ruthless nature—was holding a lowly servant girl. To see their sovereign cradle her with such care, as if she were his queen rather than a mere servant, left them all bewildered and unnerved.

"Summon the royal physician to my chambers this instant!" Alaric's voice boomed through the stunned silence, authority laced with desperation. His eyes never left Amaris, his entire focus on her still form. His court lady, pale and wide-eyed, nodded briskly and pointed to two of her subordinates.

"Go! Now!" she commanded in a near whisper, motioning for them to hurry as they rushed to obey the king's demand.

Without another word, Alaric turned and strode back to his chambers, his arms never faltering under Amaris' weight. 

Alaric gently laid Amaris down on his bed, his hands trembling as he brushed a few stray strands of hair from her face. She stirred, half-conscious, her eyes fluttering open but still foggy with confusion.

"Rosalind? Are you alright?" Amaris' voice was barely a whisper, weak and filled with concern. She reached out blindly, her fingers wrapping around Alaric's hand, mistaking him for Rosalind. "They didn't hurt you, did they?"

Her eyes cracked open just enough to catch a blurry silhouette. She smiled, mistaking the king for her friend. "Oh, good..." she chuckled softly, her voice trailing off as her eyelids drooped once more, and before Alaric could respond, she slipped back into unconsciousness.

Alaric flinched, his heart thudding in his chest as her grip on his hand loosened. Panic washed over him, and he barked out, "Where is the physician?!"

His voice, filled with desperation, echoed through the halls of the palace. He refused to let go of her bloodied hand, his pulse racing as he watched her, terrified that her breath would fade any second.

Then almost as quickly as he demanded, the door to his chambers burst open, and the royal physician rushed in, followed by the court lady and a few assistants carrying medical supplies. Alaric didn't move an inch as the physician approached, his gaze locked on Amaris, his hand still tightly holding hers.

"Your Majesty, please," the physician said softly, his tone respectful yet urgent. "I need to examine her."

Reluctantly, Alaric let go of Amaris' hand, his jaw clenched as he stepped aside. His eyes never left her frail form as the physician carefully began his work, inspecting her injuries and feeling her pulse.

"Her hands have suffered significant trauma," the physician murmured, examining the raw lashes across her palms and fingers. "But she will recover, though the pain will linger for some time. She's weak from exhaustion and the shock, but nothing life-threatening."

Alaric let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding as relief flooded through him. But his expression remained hard, the earlier fury simmering beneath his composed exterior. He then turned to his court lady and commanded. "See to it that those responsible are dealt with immediately," he ordered coldly. "I want names."

The court lady nodded and hurried off, leaving the physician to continue tending to Amaris. Alaric, still restless, paced the room, stealing glances at her every few seconds. His mind raced, torn between anger at those who had hurt her and confusion at his own emotions.

When the physician finished applying balms and wrapping Amaris' wounds, he looked up at the king. "She needs rest, Your Majesty. It's best she not be disturbed for the remainder of the night."

Alaric nodded, his face unreadable. "Leave us."

The physician bowed, gathering his tools, and left the room quietly. Alaric returned to the bedside, sitting down on the edge, staring at Amaris' peaceful face as she slept. His hand hovered over hers for a moment before he finally allowed himself to gently take it once more.

"Rest and regain your strength," he murmured softly. "You might use it to show your disdain for me, but at least I'm the only one who gets to see that side of you." A small smile crept onto his lips. "So heal quickly. I want to tease you once more."

He spoke with the innocence of a child, his gaze fixed on her features. In her sleep, Amaris unconsciously furrowed her brows and scrunched her nose, as if lost in a dream that did not please her. Alaric chuckled softly, finding amusement in her reactions. "Are you dreaming of me, slave?" he asked playfully, his voice laced with a teasing warmth.

But then he eventually sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling slightly foolish for talking to her while she slept, yet not willing to stop. He could feel the weight of his crown lessening in moments like this, where his walls crumbled, if only briefly.

"You'll wake up soon," he continued softly, almost to himself, "and no doubt you'll be as fiery as ever. But until then, rest. I'll make sure no one dares hurt you again."

Gently, he wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of his hand, feeling a swell of protectiveness rise within him.