Luke pov
My friends sloppily shoved the ale in my face, most of them already sufficiently drunk. I declined the drink, preferring the wine I was occasionally sipping. I knew I had to stay mostly sober, in case Emma needed me. Looking over to her spot once more, I panicked when I didn't see her. I quickly scanned the room for her. She was dancing with Michael. Shrugging, I took a large swig of the ale that was offered to me early. Michael will look after her, I thought. I was painfully wrong.
Not even five minutes later, the room was filled with a collective gasp. I turned away from my mates to see what the commotion was, but I couldn't see anything through the crowd.
"Fetch the medic! The princess has fainted," someone says. Their words send me pushing through the crowd till I reach an extremely stunned Michael holding Emma limply in his arms.
"What the hell have you done Clifford?!" I shout.
"We were just talking, she must have gotten overwhelmed and...," He stutters.
"Never mind that, we have to get her to the infirmary," I dismiss his explanation for now. I part the crowds of worried people and lead the way to the infirmary.
...
"Alright Clifford, what happened? I know she didn't just faint for know reason," I shove him into the wall next to the room Emma's in. She still hasn't woken.
"Hands off mate," Michael pushes me off, and crosses his arms over his chest.
"We... we were talking about running away together. We're in love," he says, a reminiscent look falls on his face. His words are like a slap across the face. I'm not sure if I want to beat the pulp out of Michael, or run to Emma and beg her to change her mind.
"Are you really going to get possessive over her too, Luke? You can't have them all," Michael says, "She doesn't deserve to be treated the way you treat women."
"I dunno Mike. I think... I think I might love her," I softly confess the words I thought I'd never dare say anywhere but in my head.
"You say that now, but what happens in a next week when a beautiful girl flirts with you? Or in a few months, when you get tired of her?
Or when she inevitably gets pregnant and her shape changes? When she turns old and grey? Will you love her then?"
He's right. He is absolutely one hundred percent accurate. The only kind of relationship I've been in is a short affair. I make them think I love them, then I rip out their hearts carelessly. I am incapable of being in a healthy, long lasting relationship with Emma. I would hurt her, just like I do with all of the rest.
A nurse opens the door, and alerts us that she's awake. Michael perks up, but I only hang my head, knowing what I must do. The only thing between Michael and that door is me.
"Go on mate, she's waiting for you," I say as I step aside. As the door closes, I go to my room to drink my sorrows away.
Emma pov
"Hey, Em, how are you feeling?" Michael says as he walks to my bed in the bright infirmary.
"A little dizzy," I say, sipping on the water the nurse gave me.
"I'm sorry I overwhelmed you. I was hoping for a better reaction," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. I knew my decision. It was the only thing I could ever choose.
"Michael, there was a time when I loved you with all of my being. You were my future, or at least I thought you were. And that girl is still inside of me, there is a part of me who wants to run away from all of my problems. But I can't. I have a responsibility to France, and now England. I made a vow two months ago, it not only bound Luke and me as husband and wife, but as the future rulers of our countries. I can't abandon my country. I belong to no man because I was born to belong to a country," As I finish, my heart feels lighter.
"Emma I love you. I can't live without you!" Michael insists with tears in his eyes.
"No you don't. A year ago, you loved the idea of being in love. We both did. And now you cling to that feeling, but you need to let go. Find a girl, you deserve to be happy with someone, that person just isn't meant to be me," I take his hand, trying to comfort him. He lifts my palm to his mouth and gives me a last kiss.
"You're right, Em," He says, giving me a small smile.
"Please come back to visit every now and again. I've missed my friend Michael,"
"Of course! I just hope Luke isn't too mad at me," he says, walking out the door,
"Wait why would Luke be mad at you?" I call, but he's already gone.
...
The second the nurse told me I was able to move around, I hopped out of bed to search for Luke. When I woke up, I thought it peculiar that he wasn't there pacing the room. Usually, he would over-exaggerate the entire situation and worry himself sick, but I hadn't seen a glimpse of him.
"Luke?" I call out when I reach our chambers. A chair was knocked on it's side in the study. I heard a shuffling sound coming from his room. I knocked on the door twice, but I got no response. Deciding to enter the room anyway, I opened the heavy door. The room was a mess. There was a bottle smashed on the floor, the bedding was hanging off the bed carelessly, and another chair was thrown on the floor. The only thing that remained in its right place were our portraits, hanging side by side. I remember the first time I saw Luke's, I thought he looked cold and heartless. Now, the painting shows me the quiet wisdom and bravery he holds within him.
"Have you come to say goodbye?" A voice from the couch startles me. I turn around to see Luke holding a bottle of ale in his hand. He was a mess. His shirt was halfway undone, his hair wild, and he was obviously drunk.
"What do you mean?" I sit on the chair next to him, the stench of hard alcohol drifting toward me.
"You two should leave now, before the sun rises," he says, taking another drink from his bottle. I quickly took it away from him, as he was already dangerously drunk.
"Michael told you?" I ask.
"Yeah," he reaches for the bottle again.
"Luke I'm not going," I tell him, holding the bottle away from his reach.
"You aren't?" he asks, no longer interested in the alcohol.
"No. I couldn't-" he attacks me with a bone crushing hug before I can finish my sentence. Although he smells of the ale he's been drinking, I am still overwhelmed with the scent of him. It's just so Luke. His beard tickles my neck and his arms pull me closer into his broad chest.
"I thought you were going to leave," he says into my skin.
"You're not going to get rid of me that easily, Hemmings"
