IMAGINE: Being in an arranged marriage with Bard

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     The small clock—that your parents gave you for a wedding gift—chimes on the bookshelf. You suppress a groan when you see the time. Bard, your husband of two weeks, is getting off of work and will be home any time soon. You pray he takes his time coming home, like he usually does.
     The thing is, Bard and you don't love each other. And to even say that you like each other would be pushing it. His parents and your parents both arranged what they thought would be a "convenient" marriage for Bard and you. He and you both detest it. There's no love between you. The only time Bard has been romantic with you is he when he gave you that nanosecond kiss at your wedding.
     You sigh, depressed, as you continue to make dinner. It's not Bard is a bad husband. He's a very nice man, but this marriage isn't working out. A few minutes go by when the door opens and Bard enters. You look at him and manage a weak smile.
     "Hello." You say quietly. He gives you a nod as he takes off his jacket. "H-how was work?" You ask.
     "Fine." He mutters. "How was your day?" He asks, hanging his jacket up on the peg by the door.
     "Good." You murmur softly.
     "You don't have to lie, Y/N. Just because neither of us are happy in this marriage doesn't mean that you have to lie to make either of us feel better." Bard states flatly, pulling out a chair and sitting down at the table. You flinch, tears stinging your eyes. You turn around to face him.
     "I'm not lying, Bard. My day was good." You whisper, your voice cracking.
     "Really? Was it because I wasn't here?" He asks, raising his eyebrows. You look down, frowning. "Right." He breathes. There's silence for a minute until Bard slams his fist on the table, making you jump. "Why did our parents even arrange this stupid marriage for us?" He spits angrily, not expecting you to answer that impossible question. "We aren't even compatible with each other." He grits out. Your chin quivers and you put a hand over your mouth.
     "I just want to love someone and be loved by him. I can't do this, Bard." You whisper, tears sliding out of your eyes.
     "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I'm sorry we've both had to go through this." Bard apologizes, frowning. You nod, closing your eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. Bard pulls back his chair and stands up, preparing to comfort you, when he gasps, "Ah!". Your eyes fly open. He's keeling over, clutching his side.
     "Bard, what's wrong?" You ask worriedly. He looks up at you, straining to keep from screaming. His eyes roll into the back of his head and he falls forward. "Bard!" You shout, catching him in your arms.
    You stumble backwards, but manage to keep yourself on your feet. You drag him to your bed, your heart pounding. You lay him on his back and look over his pale face. You lay your hand against his forehead and immediately rip your hand back, his head burning up.
     You take a step backwards, your eyes wide with horror and panic. You look around your house and spot the bucket. You run towards it, preparing to fill it with water.

---

     You stay by Bard's side as he murmurs things. You bathe his forehead, biting your lip. He hasn't gotten any better, only worse. You've sent for the doctor and now you're waiting for him.
     "No, no!" Bard shouts, suddenly thrashing wildly.
     "Bard!" You exclaim, pinning him down by the shoulders.
     "No, Y/N!" Bard screams feverishly, his eyes wide and red. You lay all your weight on him, forcing him to stay down.
     "Bard, stop! It's all right, it's all right. I'm right here." You say soothingly. He calms down, breathing heavily, and then his eyes close, falling unconscious again. You sigh, bowing your head. A knock on the door sounds.
     "Y/N, it's the doctor." A voice sounds.
     "Come in." You call, drained. The door opens and the portly doctor enters. As you give him a complete account of everything, the doctor checks your husband.
     "Does your husband eat a lot of fish?" He asks, looking up at you. You shrug.
     "As much as anyone in this town." You answer.
     "Is it usually raw or cooked?" He asks.
     "A mix of both. I usually cook the fish clean through though." You explain. The doctor straightens and sighs.
     "I fear he may have an illness from eating uncooked fish. Fish are very dirty, and when they're not cooked properly, it can be very dangerous to the consumer." He explains. You throw a worried glance at your husband.
     "Is he going to be okay?" You ask, your voice shaking.
     "I hope so. I will give you some medicine, but there's nothing more I can do. His body has to fight this. I'll come back and check him in a few days." The doctor says. He looks at Bard. "Make sure you keep him as cool as possible. The fever is raging." He adds quietly.

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      You watch Bard, your eyelids weighing heavily down on you. "Please be okay, Bard." You whisper, touching his hand. You run your thumb along his knuckle. "I don't know what I'd do without you." You choke out. "These past three weeks have been so difficult for us, but that doesn't mean I don't want to make this work." You continue.
     You sniff and notice a shiver runs through Bard's body. You pull a thin blanket over Bard's shirtless chest, and you lean down to kiss his forehead. "Please, Bard. I beg of you. You have to pull through. You just have to." You whisper, closing your eyes. Tears fall off your lashes and drip on to Bard's hair. "I love you." You state, surprising yourself. You pull back, your eyes wide. You blink a few times, your heart pounding. You smile a little, your chin quivering. "I love you." You say again.

---

     "Y/N?" You hear someone croak out. You force yourself out of your sleep and open your eyes. You lift your head.
     "Bard?" You ask, relief spanning the length of your chest. He looks at you tiredly, his hand covering yours.
     "What day is it?" He asks.
     "Tuesday morning." You answer, tears in your eyes at seeing him somewhat better. His eyebrows draw.
     "How long have I been like this for?" He asks.
     "Almost a week." You whisper.
     "Have you never left my side?" Bard asks. You shake your head.
     "I was too scared to." You answer. Bard smiles and tears pool in his. He cups your face weakly and caresses your cheek.
     "Thank you." He whispers. You smile.
      "It's fine." You reply. "Bard." You state.
       "Yes?" He asks softly.
       "I need to tell you something." You say. Bard swallows.
       "I love you, Y/N, too." He says. You stare at him, your eyes wide. "I wasn't always completely unconscious. I could faintly still hear your voice. I could hear what you were saying, and it broke me, Y/N. We've spent the last three weeks being stubborn and not even wanting to figure out this marriage. We figured it was doomed from the beginning. We never gave it chance. And we should have. We need to." He explains. You smile.
      "Oh, Bard. I feel the same way." You say. Bard smiles and grabs your hands.
     "When do we start over?" He asks.
     "I think we already have." You reply. Bard smiles and places a very tiny, soft kiss on your lips. He leans back in his pillows, smiling. You smile, blushing.
[THE END] I hope you liked it!

Luke Evans ImaginesWhere stories live. Discover now