Snow's White | ✓

41. Eight Thousand and Thirty Tomorrows

Twenty-Two Years Later

Guin turned in her bed as she felt her husband stir beside her, rubbing her eyes gently with the back of her hand as she smiled, placing her hand on his broad chest. 

"Good morning, Keir," Guin chirped, voice still thick with sleep, Keir giving her a small smile as he pressed a kiss to her hand. Though he could not see his wife, he could feel that with time her face and skin had changed, though he had no doubt she was still as pretty as she was the day they wed, nineteen years ago. Three years after leaving Lucas. Keir had been able to fend of his father's desire for him to wed for two years, gracefully turning away the potential suitors his father had arranged for him. Even without seeing them, Keir could feel their hot gazes on him, their eyes taking in the way the beautiful man sat before them on his throne, regal and elegant despite his blindness. Nothing could take away even a chip of this man's unearthly beauty, and it made all the unwedded, and wedded, noble women across the land clamour to be his betrothed. He had lasted three years of his father's nagging and the pulling and pushing of the noble women at his feet for him to cave, finding himself a wife in Guin.

It had not been a smooth betrothal, with Guin having been married only months after he had returned to his kingdom. It had come to light that Guin was barren, her putrid husband from the arranged affair casting her out from his home and vow once his mistress had taken seed. Now, a divorced barren woman, Guin had been stamped with the curse of being unwanted and unloved by any man who wanted to produce an heir.

But Keir was no such man. He had no desire for children, despite his father's disapproval. As the crown prince, it was part of his duty to produce an heir to take over the throne after his own abdication. Keir, defiant, had not moved from his stance, no matter how much his father pleaded. Seeing his son, blinded by the mistakes of his father, the King had stepped down, reluctantly allowing the marriage of his son to the barren divorcee go ahead. It was better for his kingdom to have a Queen without an heir, than a King sitting alone on his throne. When he had cast his son out in exile, he had been alone, but Guin had been the one to stand beside him over that time. And now, alone again, she had been the one to be at his back.

Getting up from their bed, Guin gently padded over to Keir's side, her husband seating himself up. Keir's dark lashes rested against the skin under his eye, lids closed as they always were, his head turning so Guin could fasten his tailor-made eye cover to his head. The dark blue silk covering sat softly against his pale skin. Now older, Keir had lost some of the youthful features he had before, but that did not mean he was any less beautiful. Skin still as pale as snow showed few wrinkles, with only creases in the corners of his sightless eyes betraying his age. His dark hair was shorter than how it was since he left Lucas all those years ago, not even scraping his shoulders, though the waves often slipped out from behind his ear to fall in front of his statuesque features. 

Keir smiled as he felt Guin's hands rest on his shoulders, her weight leaning against his back. 

"Today is the day?" Guin breathed, Keir nodding, turning his head towards her. Guin laughed lightly, kissing her husband's lips tenderly, pressing her forehead against his, closing her eyes to see what he sees.

"Thank you, for everything," Keir said softly, his voice slightly rougher than how it was twenty-two years ago. "I could not have asked for more in a wife and friend." Guin hummed as she kissed Keir again, the prince feeling the curve of her smile against his.

"And I thank you for giving me the happiness of being your wife, dearest husband," Guin said, gratefulness clouding her voice. "Now get out of bed, you lazy oaf. We have to get you dressed! I'm hungry!" 

Keir laughed as Guin all but pulled him out of bed, his taller form stumbling as his feet his the carpet beside their bed. Pulling on a corded rope beside their bed, the distant chime of a bell ringing behind the wall, the door to their chambers opened swiftly. Without guidance, Keir stepped into the centre of the room, arms raised as he has done every morning. His night shirt was lifted off his head by his servants and a fresh, crisply ironed one was pulled over the top. Hand tightened the bow around his neck, Guin informing him of today's colour, which apparently matched the dark black of his pants very well. Boots were fastened to his feet and a coat slung over his shoulder, his hair combed back and fixed into place with some light herbed gel. As the hands on his body left, the air around him growing cold, Keir twisted the ring on his finger twice, as he always did in the morning.