Author: The Duchess of Fantasy

Title: The Forgotten Wife

Rating: M

Fandom: Attila

Disclaimer: I don't own Attila or any characters from the movie, but I have created a name for his firstborn son and the wife in this story.

Summary: Mhari was a king's daughter. However, when her father's nation was taken over by Attila, she was part of the spoils. Made his bride for political reasons, she was whisked away to a corner of his harem, quickly leaving his memory, the forgotten virgin bride. Returning from a prosperous raid Attila is planning to settle in for a long winter, that is when he sees her. Over the course of securing his empire he had married many times, yet some wives are bettered remembered than others.

Pairing: Attila and OFC

Chapter One

"Our scouts tell us that King Riaz and his men are retreating, Sire." Orestes looked over at the great king of the Huns, Attila. It had been a long four months for them. Many lives had been lost in one battle after another with the tribes to the North. It was getting harder and harder to defend not only the crown but the lands that came with it. The latest raid proved to be very successful in both bounty and slaves. Yet with winter approaching, they had no choice but to return to the village and prepare for the harsh times ahead. Winter along the Steppes was hard and if they were not properly prepared, more Huns could die. "We will already have our hands full dealing with the Visigoths."

Deep in thought, Attila nodded as his second in command gave his report. He turned and started his horse in the direction of their village. It was another hard fought victory for his men. Thankfully they hadn't lost many men. In times like these, Attila knew they needed every able bodied man to fight for them. The long ride back to the village gave him time to think about the tasks that awaited him. Tiredness flooded over him, yet he knew there would be little time to rest. Upon arrival, he would meet with his head wife, Cerca. No doubt, she would want a few moments of his undivided attention. Among his wives, she held her place over them. Then he would hold court this afternoon to hear the disputes among his people.

"Great King?"

Hearing Orestes voice, Attila turned his head to look at him. "Yes?" Once again he was caught amiss his own thoughts. He longed to see his son. The anniversary of N'Kara's death was approaching and each year it hit him harder and harder. She had been dead now for nearly seven years. Seeing his son eased the pain some, but nothing could take away the void that seemed to fill his life. His first wife had been his only love. Even with all his wives, none of them captured his heart like the redheaded slave from so long ago.

"We are approaching. Our messengers have told us your people await your return with excitement." Orestes motioned to the opened gate.

Attila nodded as he led his horse through the gates. It was good to be home. Being king reminded him far too often that his people came first. Loud cheers arose up all around him at the first sight. His people swarmed around him, cheering his name. He raised his hand, acknowledging them as he rode into the village. He could see that Cerca was waiting for him with her servants, bowing before him as he approached. Seeing his wife, Attila couldn't hold back the grateful smile. Although he didn't love her, he appreciated her.

Cerca kept a cool smile on her face as Attila dismounted his horse in front of her. "Welcome home, Sire." She knew that formality was necessary in public. Actually, it had become necessary in all matters dealing with Attila of late. She could see that something was bothering him. The successful raid did little to ease his mind. Something was indeed wrong.

Attila walked over to her, bestowing a small kiss on her forehead. "Thank you, Cerca. I trust you are well?" He could feel the coldness pass between them. It was as if she were anyone else but his wife. The word wife had gone through a drastic change in his reign. Once he used it to mean the love of his life. Now his wives were mere mothers of his children and pawns in his conquests.

"Yes, I am." Cerca knew the proper responses that would make Attila happy. "The messenger said the raid was a success."

Before Attila could answer, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. His firstborn son had come running out from his palace, squealing in glee as he waved his hands. Approaching seven years old, his son often reminded him of N'Kara. However, the woman that followed his son was the one who had his attention.

The woman was dressed in the fine robes usually worn by his wives. The gown she wore was a rich blue color that set off the chestnut color of her long hair. The billowy material flowed over a curvaceous form, belted at the waist with an ornamental bejeweled belt. The veil she wore matched the gown, flowing down behind her back only to be secured by a single band of silver upon her head as it covered her face. She was running after his son, shouting orders that were immediately obeyed.

His jaw clenched at the thought of another daring to give the prince of their people orders. No one but he himself controlled his son. This would have to be dealt with now. Looking at Cerca, he gave her a brief nod. "I shall see you later."

Sensing the tension in him, Cerca gave a brief nod before she turned on her heel to walk away. She knew it was better not to arouse the anger in Attila more than it already was. That was a lesson she had learned all too often before.

"Orestes!" Attila motioned with his hand for his second in command to join him. Before Orestes reached him, Attila pointed at the woman. "Who dares gives my son orders? I thought I told you that no slave woman would be in charge of my son. Speaking of her status, why does she wear the robes of my wives?" He shouted in anger as he jabbed his finger towards the woman.

Orestes stared at his king, as if not believing what he was saying. A confused look appeared on his face as he raised his hands in order to calm the excited king. He knew the next few seconds would have to be done soft and slow. When the king was in a furor such as this, one had to tread carefully. "Sire, tell me that you recognize her?" He knew he was one of the few that could speak to Attila as such. When Attila stared at him with fire in his eyes, he sighed. "Permission to speak freely, Sire."

"Permission granted."

"It is no wonder that you do not recognize your wife, Sire." Orestes started.

"Wife?" Attila's green eyes widened as his head whipped around to stare at the woman. He watched as she sat on a bench and his son crawled up into her lap. He clenched his fists, stopping himself from walking over and yanking his son from her. "She is not my wife!"

"On the contrary, she is Sire." Orestes sighed. "Her father was King Munias, from the north. You took her as a bride when you took control of her father's lands five years ago." He started to explain.

"I think I would recognize one of my own wives." Attila snapped, his voice full of sarcasm. "I've never seen this woman before."

"She was young then, Sire. You made her your bride to spare her life. After the day of your hasty wedding, she was given to your wives so that they would teach her how to please you. You never set eyes on her after that. Cerca has made sure that Mhari is kept far away from you." Orestes spoke softly.

"Cerca?" Attila's eyes narrowed. "Why would she do such a thing?"

"Because Mhari has grown close to your son, your firstborn. As you gathered your wives, they have been too preoccupied with their own children you have bestowed on them to care about your eldest. Even Cerca barely takes notice of him. Mhari has no children of her own; after all, she is still a virgin Sire. Therefore, upon her arrival she had made your son her priority. She gives him the care and love that he'd be otherwise longing in the absence of his true mother."

Attila watched as his son laughed at something Mhari was saying to him. He couldn't see her face because of the veil she wore. A forgotten wife. He vaguely remembered King Munias and his nation. Through the years the names of the nations he had conquered became distant memories best to be forgotten. His heart clenched when he saw Mhari embrace his son. "Send Mhari to me. In the forest. Make sure that no one disturbs us." He spat out as he turned on his heel and walked away.

Sighing heavily, Orestes nodded. "As you wish Sire."