Sundown

Die for me

"Who do you think it is? The heir of Elliot?" Saoirse asked, as Timothee continued resting his head on her shoulder, staring up at the twilight dissolving into the night.

"King Elliot was the ruler of Elmcaster before us. My father won these isles in battle from him, and he died later. Mother tells me he had a pregnant wife, and that we sheltered them in the castle, but Father kept their identities so discreet, he did not let anyone know a thing about the woman and the child- not even to her. After a while, people just assumed that they were killed or they fled." He explained.

"I would not blame them. It is not exactly lovely to be a prisoner of war, even though your father is a good man."

Timothee just hummed in response and Saoirse was vividly aware of every cubit of distance between them, the warmth where his head touched her shoulder, how his soft hair tickled the crook of her neck. She noticed everything to harmful, voluminous extents- so much so that her heart had picked up a few notches in pace.

"My notion is they fled and formed some alliance. They saw ripe timing to hatch their conspiracies, what with the festivities going on and transferring power to a prince whom the people do not know intimately yet- it is easy to breed distrust among the public in such a situation." He said.

"Or it could be some former supporters and loyalists of Elliot who rescued his Queen and child, they could be however many in number." Saoirse suggested.

"Could be." Timothee mumbled and before she could stop herself, Saoirse put in place a few loose curls on Timothees head that were threatening to get entangled and stuck with her small earring. She was about to apologise and explain when she felt him tense beside her initially, but then, to her surprise, he snuggled closer.

She put her hand away, afraid to cross any boundaries and risk Timothees coldness if not rage.

"Don't stop. Play with my hair. It is comforting." He breathed out and thoroughly surprised, Saoirse sat there almost paralysed for a bit before touching her slim fingers to his scalp and massaging in a rhythm.

"Does it scare you? This entire ordeal?" She asked.

"Overwhelm would be a better word. You?"

"At first I was, but then all I felt was anger. Why is it so hard to accept defeat? If they really want a fair war, or surrender, why not pose an open challenge rather than hiding in cowardice and discreetly attacking?"

"Values and bravery only give one an easy, direct victory in fairytales. There are a lot of shadows and patches to honesty and virtue involved." He sighed and moving his hand to take hers, positioned it at one of his temples, showing her to massage there.

"Which is exactly why it angers me. I hope it does not come to war." She spoke, pressing down into his skin.

"We hope for a lot of things Saoirse, how many do we get?" He replied, lifting his head off her shoulder for the final time before getting up and looking her in the eyes.

Saoirse matched his stare, unable to answer or even comprehend his meaning. She got up too.

"Do not look at me like that." He said when they did not move for a while.

"Like what?"

"Like you'd die for me."

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"Do we have any suspects, Hawklin?" The King asked.

"Your Grace, every entrance to the castle and the kingdom has been checked. We have found no accounts of suspicious activity yet. I have sent messages to our spies in enemy kingdoms. We are waiting for their word back." The Prime Minister replied.

"Ser Boris, has the guard been refined and doubled?"

"Yes, Your Grace, but I still suggest postponing the coronation till we sort this mess." The old minister spoke.

"And do exactly what the foe wants us to do? Marvellous. The ceremony will happen ten days from now and there is nothing that can change that." The Kings voice boomed throughout the court.

"Your Grace, the King of Brookwood demands your audience." A meek messenger boy informed the royalty, and the King bid all ministers to leave.

When the other man entered the court, his flowing copper robes prominent and his crown a dazzle, King Marc stood up to greet him.

"To what do I owe the honour, good King?" He spoke, smiling as if he had not been yelling just a few moments ago.

"Your daughter." The other King replied, beaming, and took his seat.

"What about her?"

"Oh Marc, you and I, need this alliance between us to grow stronger, especially in times like these when you need all the allies you can possibly get. Besides, Ansel and Pauline seem to get along really well. She was really kind to give him a tour of the kingdom and to say it impressed the Prince would just be scratching the surface." The King explained.

"Are you proposing a--?"

"Marriage between the two. Yes. Let Timothee sit on the throne of Elmcaster and Pauline on that of Brookwood beside Ansel. What do you say?"

"At least some cause for merry-making today." King Marc said, his smile touching his eyes.