forum Royal Affairs (O/O Closed)

Started May 08, 2023 by @LolaBug

tune

(They can be such little jerks lol)

Time. They still have plenty of time. That thinking is one of the few reasons that she’s so calm right now. A few months can pass by before they need to even think about panicking over logictics. They even have a few weeks before they need to tell this to anyone. Keeping it a secret will help them process this on their own without having to worry about anyone else.

Feeling Kaillas' protective arms around her, she slowly begins to drift off to sleep. As she nestles closer to him, she can't help but sense his inner turmoil, even in her drowsy state. She knows that his worries run deep, but she hopes that, in time, they can overcome these uncertainties together. Raising a baby is going to be challenging, she knows that, but she also trusts that they’ll be able to do it. They won’t be alone. There are people around them who can help.

With her eyes heavy and her voice soft, she murmurs, "Kaillas, I believe in you. You're going to do great." She sighs contentedly, feeling the warmth of his touch and the comfort of his presence, and soon, she succumbs to the embrace of sleep.

(They really are. Kiwi kept me up like all night. Little shit)

He slowly lowered them in the bed until he was laying down on his side and he was spooning Ophelia. He made sure she was comfortable. the pillow wasn't too hard or too soft. He started to throw a leg over her when he decided otherwise. She was pregnant. He needed to be more careful. Not to mention she wasn't feeling the best either.

He compromised on tangling his feet between hers and his hands resting on her stomach. He smiled slightly at her words. At least one of them was confident in him. "Go to sleep, love. You need to rest."

And despite it being midday, he could feel his own body starting to tire and settle into bed. He was holding the woman he loved, how could he not sleep with her? If all else failed, he could have his work brought to him and he could deal with it here while she slept. he didn't want to be far from her. Not right now.

(Such a cute name for a cat though. It's impossible not to forgive the little assholes lol)

Ophelia nestles comfortably against Kaillas, feeling the warmth and comfort of his presence. She appreciates his thoughtfulness as he ensures she's as comfortable as can be. The gentle tangle of their feet and his hands resting on her pregnant belly make her feel cherished and protected. As he smiles, she reaches out to caress his cheek, her eyes filled with love.

It's strange not having him sling his leg over her like he usually would. She isn't sure if he's being cautious because she's pregnant or feeling poorly or both. Either way, it probably is for the best. For now at least.

She knows that she shouldn't be keeping him away from his work but she's comfortable laying in bed with him. Today has her feeling spent and it's barely past noon. She curls into his embrace and sleeps soundly, needing the rest.

(Lett's just say he's not adjusting to daylight savings very well)

Kaillas kissed her cheek softly before settling his head back against the pillows. He watched s her eyes closed and sleep began to take her. Good, she needed to rest. With her illness and overwhelming news, he would have been concerned if she didn't sleep. He would have demanded it from her and even insisted on a sleep aid if she had said she wasn't tired. Her wellbeing was the upmost important thing right now.

While he hadn't felt particularly tired previously, perhaps it was the shock of the news wearing off that had his eyelids starting to grow heavy. He wouldn't typically nap during the day but since he wasn't going anywhere else for the time being, and his sleeping wife was so inviting, he gave into the urges.

Everything else could wait. He wanted to be with his wife and bask in the glow of this exciting news. Later, when they both woke, they could discuss what their next steps would be. But for now, he would sleep with his pregnant wife in his arms, holding them both safe and sound.

(Man, same with all of my fools. I feel bad that they don’t understand the concept but dang it’s annoying lol)

(Do we want to do a little skip here?)

(we can do a time skip)

(He's waking me up now earlier than usual with the zoomies cause he wants to play. Like bitch its 4 am, go back to sleep)

(Okay! To when they announce or to the obscene amount of drama that’s going to happen?)

(4am?! I would be so damn grumpy if I was woken up that early XD)

(drama all the way)

(Oh i am so tired all of the time because of that. He loves to run across me in bed, so it's not like i can just annoy him. And he'll scratch up the door and floor if I lock him out.)

(Yay!!! Okay, I’ll get that up in a second then)

(That’s so annoying! Cats are just so crazy. Mine likes to bite my hand if I’m sleeping and she wants attention. And then she stands directly on my face to suffocate me lol)

(Man, I’m jealous. I would kill for Cannoli to just run around. She’s only a few months old tho so I guess I have to expect her to be insane lol)

Ophelia, in the midst of her sixth month of pregnancy, gently cradles her growing belly, feeling the life within her stir and kick. She's determined not to let her pregnancy hinder her responsibilities as queen, and today, she's reviewing important documents and making decisions for the kingdom.

As she delves into the paperwork, a sudden, chilling commotion erupts throughout the palace. Alarms blare, and shouts of panic fill the air. Ophelia freezes, her heart racing, as the realization dawns that the palace is under attack. Fear courses through her, and she clings to her belly, instinctively trying to shield her unborn child.

Rushing to a nearby window, Ophelia witnesses the chaos outside. The palace guards are scrambling to defend their home, and the once-stately grounds are now a scene of turmoil. Her thoughts immediately turn to Kaillas. She has no idea where he is right now.

(Aww is this the kitten you rescued a couple of months ago? Also, good luck XD)
(Also, this was not what I had in mind for drama. Why you hurt my heart like this????)

Kaillas would typically be at his desk this time, combing through paperwork. Or he would be in a council meeting with his advisors or even taking meetings with those with grievances or concerns. Most recently, some of his farmers worried about their land after a brutal winter. Most had been easy enough to solve but others were more pressing.

But Kaillas was doing known of this right now. No, he was in the nursery, unbeknownst to Ophelia, helping to set up the nursery. It hadn't been touched in ears. It hadn't been touched since Katya had been a child. It need mush attention. The maids had cleaned and dusted while Kaillas helped remove most of the furniture. So much of it was out of date and old. His baby would have nothing but the best. And despite everyone's warnings, he had everything made in pink. For the baby girl he was sure to be having.

It would be easy enough to switch everything to blue if he truly had to. But he was sure it was a girl and this room would reflect that. he planned to surprise Ophelia with a completed nursery after dinner.

In the midst of deciding where to put the crib he had commissioned, alarms were suddenly blaring. His head lifted and his eyes widened. He knew that alarm. The palace was under attack. he didn't have time to think of who or what or why. All he could think of was getting to his wife. His pregnant wife who was on the opposite side of the palace. Weaponless, he sprinted out of the room, doing his best to avoid the scrambling and panicked staff and courtiers, but not quite carrying if he knocked them over either. He needed to get to Ophelia.

(Yes!! She’s the most affectionate little monster ever! She comes when she’s called like a puppy and I even taught her to sit lol)

(It gets sooo much worse than this. This is just the beginning XD)

Chaos reigns within the palace as the enemy forces launch their ruthless attack. Fires rage through the opulent halls, casting eerie flickering shadows on the once-gilded walls. The acrid scent of smoke fills the air, and the palace that was once a symbol of grandeur is now a battleground, echoing with cries of fear and anguish.

Amid the turmoil, the enemy's infiltrators slip through the defenses, their dark intentions sowing destruction at every turn. Blood stains the marble floors, a stark reminder of the fierce struggle between the palace guards and the invaders. The grandeur and elegance of the palace are rapidly being replaced by scenes of horror and chaos.

Desperate cries for help and the clashing of swords create an unsettling symphony, echoing through the once-peaceful halls. The sanctity of the palace is under grave threat, and those who had once felt safe within its walls are now engulfed in a nightmarish reality.

She soon finds herself crouched in a hidden alcove within the palace, her heart pounding with fear and her unborn child a constant worry. The once-peaceful walls that sheltered her are now a battleground, and she's gripped by a paralyzing sense of vulnerability.

She clutches her belly protectively, trying to shield her precious cargo from the chaos that rages outside. Her every breath is a whisper of prayer for safety, not just for herself but for the life within her. She can hear the distant sounds of battle and the screams of her people, and the weight of responsibility as both queen and expectant mother presses heavily upon her.

In this moment of peril, she is forced to confront her own vulnerability. The palace, which had always been her sanctuary, now feels like a place of peril. Every rustle of clothing or distant shout sends a shiver down her spine, and she tries to stay as still as possible, hiding in the shadows and praying for the attack to end.

She is torn between her instincts to protect herself and her unborn child and her longing to do something to help her people. Her determination to survive and ensure her child's safety remains steadfast, even as the world around her is consumed by chaos and danger.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy boots echoing through the corridor signals the enemy's approach. Her breath catches in her throat, and she grips her belly in a protective gesture, her eyes wide with terror. The shadows that had concealed her are no match for the keen eyes of the invaders.

With a sense of inevitability, the enemy soldiers reach her hiding spot, their cold, calculating gazes locking onto her. Ophelia trembles as they close in, knowing that her sanctuary has been breached, and her hope for safety shattered.

(I wish I could teach my cat tricks. he's too much of a menace)
(-_- i think I'm regretting this)

Kaillas couldn't focus. He wasn't recognizing the faces around him, his eyes very much trained on finding one person, his wife. He attacked only those who attacked him first. The soldier was older and well taught. But he hadn't taken in account the strength that had filled him in desperation to find his wife. The fight ended quickly and with blood. He had disarmed the soldier of his sword and cut through them.

The sword was not to his liking. It was too light and shorter than he preferred but he didn't have time to go to his rooms to grab his sword. Every second mattered. A minute could be the difference in life and death. He would not be delayed. He would not risk his wife's life.

He stopped only to fight the soldiers who engaged with him. The leader in him had taken a backseat in his frenzy. Had he known where his wife was and sure of her safety, he would have been barking out orders left and right and fought to purge his palace of this foreign entity. But his wife was unaccounted for.

His sisters were also a concern for him but less so. they both should have been in the library with their lessons. Aedion would be with them both, as well as the guard assigned to Katya. They would likely be hiding in the catacombs beneath the library with the palace's oldest and rarest texts. The doors were heavy and easily defensible. The librarians and tutors would have heard everyone in there before closing it shut. Kaillas had to believe they were safe and sound in there and not stuck in this chaos. Because his wife was somewhere here.

It was taking too long to get to her office. Too many people were flooded in the halls, blocking the way. Staff scrambling about and trying to hide from the onslaught. Soldiers engaged in combat. Bodies lined the floor and the marble was becoming slick with blood.

Bodies dropped in his wake, more brutally than the last as his frustration and fear continued to grow. It was taking too long. Too long to get to her office. Too long to find his pregnant wife. Anything could have happened to her by now. He didn't think he could survive if he lost her. He couldn't bare it.

(Dude. Get some dehydrated chicken breast and dehydrated beef liver. My cat would do anything for some of that)

(You probably should XD)

Amidst the chaos that engulfs the palace, Ophelia's world crumbles as the relentless enemy forces close in. Their sinister intentions become painfully clear as they surround her, their grip unyielding and merciless. She gasps for breath, feeling her heart race in terror, her vulnerable condition of being six months pregnant intensifying the horror of her situation.

In her desperate struggle, Ophelia's voice cries out in a futile plea for mercy, but it falls on deaf ears. The enemy soldiers, driven by their ruthless mission, show no remorse as they forcefully seize her, tearing her from the safety of her hiding place. Her hands instinctively clutch her belly, a protective gesture in the face of overwhelming force.

Her wounded body is now in the unforgiving grasp of her captors, and the pain of her injuries mingles with the deep fear that courses through her veins. Every movement sends sharp jolts of agony through her. As they drag her away from the once-glorious palace that is now marred by violence, Ophelia's heart aches with the desperate need to protect her unborn child. The world outside, once familiar, now appears as an alien and menacing place, and her determination to safeguard her child's future is the only anchor in this nightmarish ordeal. With each step away from the palace, Ophelia clings to the hope that she can find a way to ensure the safety of her child and herself in the midst of unimaginable adversity.

The palace hallway bears the grim evidence of her struggle. Stains of blood mar the elegant floors, a stark reminder of the pain and resistance she offered to her captors. The crimson smears are juxtaposed with torn fabric, remnants of her royal gown, left behind in the wake of her desperate struggle for escape. The once-pristine fabric lies crumpled and discarded, a silent witness to the violence that unfolded here.

(I should look into that. Kiwi looooves his puree treats.)

Kaillas was tearing through the palace. Body after body dropping in his wake. He didn't register the wounds inflicted on his body. He didn't feel the slice of the blade across his chest or the knife nicking his arm. He didn't feel the fist that caught him in jaw. All he knew was that he had to get to his wife. It was the adrenaline that kept him going. The adrenaline pumping through his veins that kept the pain away. He wouldn't drop until his wife was safe and sound and his palace rid of these people.

As he neared the hall of offices, he began shouting her name, "Ophelia!" Perhaps it wasn't the wisest to be shouting her name, thus signaling exactly who he was, if they couldn't tell already. He needed to hear her voice. He needed to hear her shouting back for him.

Then in the midst of the chaos, he heard her cry. But not a cry for him, a cry of distress. His head perked up, listening for that sound and following it. His wife was almost in his grasp. Those that dared to put their hands on his wife would die a terrible death. He would make sure they regretted ever putting their hands on his wife.

He surged forward, barreling through the crowd. He didn't stop to engage with anyone that tried him. He avoided them quickly and ran too fast for them to chase him. As he came across the scene of his wife being dragged around by enemy soldiers, he saw red. Hands on his wife. Hands hurting her and dragging her and terrifying her.

He was going to kill them all.

(Aww Cannoli does too!)

Ophelia's hands tremble as she claws frantically at those grabbing at her. Rough calloused hands, coated with blood, tightly grip the delicate lace of her gown, now marred and torn by the ruthless hands of the enemy soldiers. Their fingers dig into her skin, leaving angry red marks that throb with pain. She kicks and fights back with every ounce of strength she has, knowing that things will only worsen for her if she's taken away from the palace. Waves of agony shoot up her legs as she's dragged out onto the gravel that lines parts of the front courtyard.

Desperation floods her mind, and her heart races in terror as the soldiers drag her closer to the waiting carriage. Her throat burns with silent screams, and the metallic taste of blood fills her mouth as she bites down on her lip to stifle her cries. She catches fleeting glimpses of her husband, Kaillas, fiercely battling his way through the chaos to reach her, but with each passing moment, the distance between them seems insurmountable.

As the carriage's door creaks open, her breath catches in her throat. The dim interior, lit only by a flickering lantern, feels suffocating, and she can't help but imagine the horrors that might await her once she's inside. Her heart pounds painfully in her chest, and she clings to the last shreds of hope, praying that Kaillas will arrive in time to rescue her from this nightmare.

The dim interior of the carriage engulfs her, the air heavy with the scent of aged leather and a hint of mustiness. The worn velvet seats are faded and threadbare, and the once-gilded edges have tarnished over time. The uneven wooden floor creaks beneath her weight, and she can feel the gritty texture of dust on her fingertips as they clutch the worn armrests. The windows, though mostly intact, have accumulated years of grime and scratches, obstructing her view of the outside world. The flickering candlelight barely illuminates the carriage's interior, casting eerie, dancing shadows. The combination of the carriage's disrepair and her own fear intensifies Ophelia's sense of dread, leaving her with a sinking feeling of uncertainty about her future

(so do you want me to save her now or does she get kidnapped and he's gotta get her back later)

(also -_- rude)

(Unfortunately for you both, he will not be getting her back right now. It's time to suffer 😇)

(I feel no guilt for this lol)

(you're terrible)

(you should feel guilty!!! maybe ill get revenge for this)

(I know I am lol)

(No guilt!!! And I have no doubt that you will XD)

(afhjkasdhf i forgot to respond)

His heart wasn't beating. It was frozen stuck in his chest as he watched his Ophelia being stuffed into a carriage and there was nothing he could do. He wasn't fast enough. He wasn't deadly enough. Soldiers were swarming around him, preventing him from getting to his Ophelia. More and more were attacking the king but all he could think about was the carriage riding away from with his wife inside.

He might die right then and there if there wasn't the possibility that his wife might survive this. He would tear his enemies apart with his bare hands if it mean getting his wife back. Nothing was off the table now. They were about to find out how much of a monster Kaillas truly could be.

The carriage faded in the distance until he could see nothing less. There was more blood on the floor than he could see than the marble below. Bodies were piled upon bodies and it was all too easy to trip over them if one didn't watch their steps. It was utter chaos in the palace. His immediate attention was needed and action need ed to be taken, but all he could think about was his wife being dragged away.

He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. He was spiraling and there would be no way to save him until his wife was in his arms.

(It's all good! lol)

A sudden, brutal blow to Ophelia's head sends her world spiraling into darkness as she loses consciousness during the carriage ride. The pain is searing, and her mind drifts away as her body goes limp. She remains blissfully unaware as the enemy soldiers carry her out of the carriage and into the heart of their hidden hideout. Many hours have passed and the sun is starting to dip lower into the sky. Dark clouds cover the sky and a low rumble of thunder sounds off in the distance.

When she regains consciousness, she finds herself being dragged through in an unfamiliar, dimly lit corridor, her head throbbing and disoriented. The harsh odor of damp stone hangs heavily in the air, and her wrists and ankles are bound in unforgiving iron shackles. She winces in pain as the soldiers continue to guide her deeper into the winding labyrinth of the hideout.

Finally, they reach a small, dank cell, the heavy door looming ominously. Ophelia is thrust inside, her feet stumbling on the cold, uneven stone floor. The dim light within the cell casts eerie, flickering shadows, and her vision is still clouded. The sound of the door slamming shut reverberates through the cell, leaving her alone in the cold, desolate darkness, a prisoner in this hostile enemy hideout.

Ophelia's terrified eyes sweep around the dimly lit cell, taking in the harsh reality of her surroundings. The damp stone walls, slick with moisture, seem to close in on her, and she shivers from both fear and the chill in the air. Her wrists and ankles throb painfully from the iron shackles that bind her, causing her to wince with each movement.

The meager straw pallet in one corner offers little comfort, its coarse texture scratching her skin as she reaches out to touch it. The musty smell of the straw mingles with the dampness, making her stomach churn. The flickering lantern barely illuminates the cell, and its feeble light casts eerie, shifting shadows that dance across the rough stone walls.

Her breathing is shaky as she takes in the bleakness of her surroundings, the stark reality of her captivity sinking in. She's scared and in pain, her head still throbbing from the earlier blow. The cell feels like a grim, unforgiving prison, and she clings to the hope that somehow, she'll find a way to escape this nightmarish situation and reunite with her beloved Kaillas.

His home had been turned into a battlefield. The one place that was supposed to be safe now a reminder that he was not invincible, even behind his stone walls. Bodies had been dragged out of the palace and into the courtyard, two piles separating the invaders from his citizens. The bodies that could be recognized would be sent off to their families for a proper burial. Those that couldn't or had no family would be buried in the palace graveyard. Blood still covered the palace floors. Kaillas doubted the stains would ever truly be gone. So much wreckage. So much carnage. And yet he couldn't care about any of it other than his missing wife.

Ambrose had taken over directing the palace. He was barking around orders and trying to calm the chaos. It was evident to everyone that Kaillas couldn't be counted on. No, the kidnapping of his wife had incapacitated him. He couldn't think of anything, see anything, than those men taking his wife. They could be hurting her, torturing her, and he had no idea where she was.

Elora and Katya were safe. Terrified and traumatized but safe. Only half of his advisors and councilmen were accounted for and alive. And yet he couldn't bring himself to care about his council. His people, any of it.

He had given the order that those remaining of his council, that were able, to meet him in his council room. he watched as their terrified and grim faces sat around the table. The looks of anger as he had torn them from their loved ones. He didn't care.

"The queen has been taken. We are not going to rest until we get her back."

(Guess who got off of work over two hours late today?)

Ophelia's trembling hands trace the bruises on her arms, remnants of the forceful encounter that led to her confinement. The chill of the cell intensifies her vulnerability, but her thoughts remain fixated on accessing the damage. Panicking will only make things worse. She winces as she inspects a tender spot, the pain a stark reminder of the dangers that surround her.

The muted glow filtering through a small, barred window casts a feeble light on her pallid face. Every creak and distant sound amplifies her anxiety, a constant reminder of the uncertain fate that looms. Her gaze drifts downward, where her clothing clings to a subtle swell. A mix of apprehension and tenderness washes over her as she instinctively shields her unborn child. She’s worried sick that this is going to end poorly for her baby.

The concrete floor offers little comfort, but she eases herself into a corner, seeking comfort in the embrace of her own arms. She longs to be far away from here, safe and happy with her husband.

——

In a lavishly adorned chamber, King William and Queen Charlotte feign shock as the messenger delivers the fabricated news. Their faces, etched with concern, betray nothing of the sinister orchestration that unfolded at their command. The deceitful performance unfolds seamlessly as they absorb the supposed tragedy, concealing the treacherous secrets beneath a façade of grief.

Tension hangs in the air as the messenger recounts the fabricated tale of kidnapping and kingdom turmoil. The king and queen exchange subtle glances, their eyes reflecting the dark satisfaction of a plan executed flawlessly. The room, adorned with opulence, becomes a stage for their deceptive drama, concealing the puppet strings that connect them to the chaos outside.

Behind the veil of parental distress, a calculated scheme unravels. As the messenger departs, they exchange a cold, triumphant smile—an unspoken acknowledgment of their sinister mastery over the unfolding tragedy, a macabre dance of power and deception. No one will ever suspect the grieving parents of such a heinous crime.

Kaillas hadn't left that room. He hadn't left that room as night fell. He hadn't left that room as his advisors all filed out, to catch sleep or check up on loved one. Messages had been sent to their spies in all directions. Only a few had written back and they were negative. His agitation and fear was rising with every passing moment that there was no word of his wife. And yet he still did not leave. Not even when his sister tried to coax him out. He did not leave.

Maps were spread out on the table. All possibly enemies had been marked. Riders had been sent out in every direction, trying to find the path the kidnappers had left. And yet they were empty handed. Everyone came back with nothing. There was nothing. His pregnant wife was out there somewhere, in pain and scared, and yet he was here, no closer to finding her as he was hours ago.

Hours. It had been hours. She could be dead for all he knew. He held onto the belief they were using her as bait to get to him. To get something from him. He had held up hope that he would be receiving a ransom letter soon. He would give anything to get his wife back. Anything.

"Kaillas," there was a murmur in his ear and a hand on his shoulder, shaking him. "Kaillas, you need to wake up."

Kaillas's body ached. His neck and back hurt from he falling asleep over the table. His eyes opened groggily. He couldn't tell he time. He had no idea where he was for a moment as he found his bearings. And when everything came back to him, he shot up, almost hitting Ambrose in the process. "Have you found her? Do we have a lead?"

Ambrose looked at him grimly and shook his head. "No, we haven't. But you're presence is required."

Ophelia lies on the cold, unforgiving floor of the dimly lit cell, her body aching from the harsh treatment she endured earlier. The stone walls seem to close in on her, the dampness seeping through her thin clothing, chilling her to the bone. The flickering light overhead casts eerie shadows, creating a disorienting dance of darkness that mirrors the turmoil within her mind. She clutches her bruised arms, a futile attempt to shield herself from the overwhelming sense of vulnerability that consumes her.

The air is thick with the acrid stench of despair and fear, a haunting symphony of distant sobs and muted cries echoing through the cold corridors. Her heart pounds in her chest like a desperate plea for freedom, each beat a painful reminder of her dire predicament. The metallic taste of blood lingers in her mouth, a souvenir from the ruthless encounter that led her to this forsaken cell. She shivers, not only from the physical pain but from the lingering dread that snakes its way through her thoughts, feeding on the uncertainty of what awaits her in this desolate night.

As the hours drag on , her every attempt to find comfort in the darkness is thwarted by the gnawing ache in her bones and the haunting whispers of her own anxieties. The cold, unyielding reality of her surroundings threatens to suffocate her spirit. She listens to the distant footsteps of the night watch, each step a reminder that she is at the mercy of forces beyond her control. The flickering of the torches lining the hallway become a cruel companion, casting distorted shadows that seem to mock her pain. In the depths of the cell, she battles the physical torment and the torment of her own thoughts, yearning for the first light of dawn to bring with it the promise of release from this abyss of terror.

Ophelia awakens to the harsh reality of her confinement, the dim light filtering through the barred window offering little comfort. As she gathers her strength, a sense of urgency propels her into action. She scans the confines of her cell, eyes desperately searching for any means to reach out to her husband, who must be frantic with worry. The stone walls around her seem to mock her futile attempts to find a way out. Every inch of the cell is scrutinized, each crevice inspected for a hidden escape or a chance to send a message. Yet, her efforts yield no fruit. The cell remains unyielding, its secrets well-guarded against her desperate search. Anxiety tightens its grip on her chest, the weight of isolation pressing down on her shoulders.

With a heavy sigh, she slumps against the cold wall, defeated. The absence of any communication lifeline leaves her feeling helpless and vulnerable. She replays the events leading to her imprisonment in her mind, grappling with the bitter truth that, for now, escape and communication with her husband remain elusive. As the cell's cold silence envelops her, she clings to the fragile hope that some unforeseen opportunity will arise, a glimmer of possibility in the oppressive darkness of her predicament.

The last thing Kaillas wanted to do was talk to anyone. He wanted to take a horse and ride out until his wife was safely in his arms and their enemies dead at their feet. But he was smart enough not to jump into action without a plan. If he rose off wandering aimlessly, he was more likely to end up dead himself or if Ophelia wasn't dead yet, she would be soon if he was unaccounted for. And if a ransom letter was sent for him, he couldn't very well do anything with it if he wasn't available.

He peeled himself away from he table and looked down at himself. His clothes were still soaked in blood, some of it his but most of his enemies. Ambrose pursed his lips as he looked at his appearance but didn't say anything. Not yet. His presence was required immediately. The court had gathered, those that were still alive, and questions needed to be answered.

Kaillas stepped into the throne room where his people were gathered. He stepped onto the dais where his throne sat. Where his wife's throne sat. And he vowed he wouldn't sit on his throne until his wife sat on hers first. Until then, he would stand. He wouldn't know a minute of comfort until his wife was bathed in comfort.

He cleared his throat. "So far, no one has come forward to claim the attack on our home yesterday. Our assailants are a mystery as of yet, having slipped our grasp amidst the chaos. The one thing we do know is that they came for something. For someone. The queen. They have our queen and our heir. We will stop at nothing until we have found these men and retrieved our queen and avenged our dead. We will show no mercy. We will obliterate our enemies and no one will dare to try to march on us again."