They rode down by the riverside; the Lord-King's majestic chestnut marching through the waters purposefully as Arwen and Jack's ponies danced and pranced through the waters with the giggling of their riders in their wake. Lady Emily's blue roan flanked them with an indulgent patience, the woman laughing in amusement when the Lord-King was sprayed on both sides by his children rushing by. It was a lovely day to be out; the sun was warm on their faces, the breeze cool enough, and not a cloud could be seen in the sky above them.
"Have the waters wounded you, my King?" she laughed, urging her mare into a trot after the Lord-King. Behind her, not too far off but far enough to keep in the shadows, her escorts followed on their mounts. She brought her mare up alongside the King's charger, grinning wickedly at the man's drenched face and clothes. "Goodness, what damage done by those water sprites!"
Aêron grumbled at her benevolently, flicking the water dripping off his hands at her and smirking at her squeal. "Water sprites indeed," he chuffed, and nudged his stallion forwards when Arwen and Jack went too far. "Children," he called after them, and that was enough to bring them faithfully back to their sides. When Arwen appeared at his side, Aêron smiled down at his daughter and his eyes crinkled when he saw the young girl shift eagerly in her saddle.
"The Heir Queen wriggles like a worm upon her saddle," he teased her, laughing quietly when Arwen blushed prettily under her curtain of dark hair. It needn't be said aloud that Arwen was more than just a little bit eager to get to her gift. He leaned down slightly from his saddle, and caught his daughter's hazel gaze. "Go along then," he murmured warmly, dimples peeking from his cheeks when Arwen stared at him. "Have Captain Morgan and Mage Reid take you."
"Truly, Father?" she asked him, her voice a quiet awe and her eyes so sweetly wide. When Father had asked her of her wishes for her seventh Feast, she hadn't expected him to approve! He'd always insisted that she was too young to ride true horses, but much to her surprise, the Lord-King had promised to take her to the stables!
Arwen darted a glance to Lady Emily, where the elegant woman was seated upon her blue roan and keeping a steady pace with her father. Emily smiled at her then, winking surreptitiously at the girl before blinking innocently at Aêron when the man looked at her. Arwen smiled, giggling under her breath at the annoyed look on her father's face before nudging her pony onwards.
The Lord-King watched fondly as Arwen and Jack rode on, turning to where the burlier man rode up to his side. "Watch them for me, Morgan," he murmured quietly to his Guard, and the bronze man nodded silently, his charger gliding forward like a shadow after the royal children. Aêron's mouth twitched in amusement when the magister's apprentice went bouncing after him, barely able to keep steady on his loping gelding. "He's such a scrawny thing," he remarked, chuckling when the man nearly toppled over the head of his horse when it stopped abruptly.
"He'll grow eventually." Emily's dulcet voice came from beside him.
Aêron gave her an amused, sidelong glance when the woman appeared at his side, her mare striding languidly beneath her. "We're not speaking of Crown Prince, my Lady. I'm rather certain that Mage Reid has grown to his full potential already." He shook his head at the thought of the gangly man growing any longer. "He's almost a beanstalk as it is."
"Yes, and the Crown Prince and Heir Queen are growing their fair share too, are they not?" The Lady smiled wistfully as she saw Reid conjure a small water dragon from the river, much to the children's delight. A soft, melodic laugh came from Emily's throat when the water dragon weaved a dance around the ponies before disappearing in a pretty show of color in the sunlight. "Soon Jack will be asking him to teach him Magyck, and Arwen will have her coronation. You'll see," she told the Lord-King, when the man harrumphed at her.
"A blink of an eye and they'll be taller than us, and smarter too."
The Lord-King smirked out of the corner of his mouth, and he gave her a sidelong glance. "Smarter than the Lady Fairschilde? There is no such thing," he drawled dramatically, earning him a shove on the arm when the Lady's mare came brushing by his charger's side. He laughed still, but Emily knew that deep down, the Lord-King was intensely terrified of the day his children would outgrow him. She saw it now, in his smiling face; his eyes that grew dull with some lost memory or thought.
Emily wrinkled her nose at him, reining her mare in to a comfortable walk as the Lord-King pulled his charger to slow as well. They were now a good distance away from the others; far behind enough to keep track, but out of earshot. She didn't want the children or her escorts to hear this. It was bad enough that her ladies-in-waiting wouldn't stop fussing about the Lord-King's temper and his listlessness. Many of the castle's people called him the Ghost King, for he roamed the corridors and halls in the night like a restless spirit of the castle.
It came to the Lady that she too had lost many a night's sleep, worrying about the Lord-King, straining her ears in the dead of night to hear his footsteps slide quietly along the corridors. It was not a healthy habit for either of them, and she was going to address it now.
Once they were alone with but their horses beneath them and the quiet running of the river below them, Lady Emily peered at the Lord-King quietly. "You worry me, my King."
Aêron's brow arched in surprise, startled by the blunt openness the Lady held her emotions and thoughts. It was something he'd always admired about her – her ability to speak her thoughts with such grace and finesse even as she spat an insult in the face of a viscount. She was open and honest with most people, and yet when it came to the Lord-King, he couldn't help but feel her guardedness. He looked at her, confused and somewhat defensive. "Why do I worry you?" he asked her, and he saw that the Lady was gnawing on the corner of her lip.
She only ever chewed her lip when she was anxious or distracted about matters that upset her.
His hazel eyes softened on her; she really was too good to him. "Tell me," he urged her, and his quiet voice seemed to…do something to the noblewoman. Her dark lashes fluttered as she looked back at his face, and he could've sworn, if not for the glowing sun, that Lady Emily's cheeks grew flush. "Please," he murmured again, almost crooning the word.
Emily cast a somewhat dirty look at the Lord-King – damn his stupidly delicious low voice! But the Lady knew she would have to oblige the King regardless; it was what she had intended to speak with him about anyway. "You haven't been sleeping as of late," she began, eyeing the Lord-King and watching to see if he would protest and deny. To her surprise though, the man merely looked guilty and sheepish. Whatever that was bothering him must have truly bothered him for a long time.
"You walk the corridors more frequently now; when your nightmares grew too…vivid, you would come to me, or you would sit in your study and peruse your requests." Emily stared off somewhere ahead of them, her eyes glazed in an almost wistful shadow. He watched her profile with rapt fascination – the contrast of sharp and softness in her features made her quite a truly beautiful woman. Then he saw her lips roll inwards a touch, and she turned her eyes back on him. "Lately all you've been doing is pacing the corridor outside my bedroom and then disappearing into your study until dawn."
The Lord-King shifted on his saddle uncomfortably, clearing his throat as he darted a nervous look at her. "I wasn't…ah…I wasn't aware you were awake, my Lady," he told her awkwardly, blushing under his high collared shirt at the thought of keeping the Lady awake with his pacing. If he'd known that she was awake, he would have never taken to visiting her in the late hours of the night, but the Lord-King had been so desperate for her company after his nightmares. It wasn't something condoned, even by the King, to enter a Lady's bedchambers afterhours, and he was too noble a man to spurn Emily's name so.
"I apologize if I keep you from your slumber," he uttered, but Emily shook her head vehemently at him.
"That's exactly why it concerns me, Your Grace," she insisted, and suddenly she realized that the children and their guards were no longer in sights or sounds, and that their horses had stopped moving. It didn't matter – the sooner she told him what bothered her, and he to her, the better. "You're supposed to trust me with these problems. If you cannot come to me when you do not sleep, then who else can you turn to?"
Aêron stared at her for a long, hard moment, tracing the way her eyes stared into his with so much compassion and concern in them that he almost wanted to weep at her kindness. He knew, he knew very clearly that he was not the only one who woke in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and a scream in his throat. He knew that there were many nights that Emily would toss and turn and scream in her bed until the terrors of her nightmares released her from their blackened claws and she would run down into the stables.
He knew because he had been the one to find her curled up in her mare's stall, asleep beside the resting horse and huddled in the sweet smelling hay. He knew because he had carried the Lady back to her bed more times than he cared to count. Thinking about the times he had her pressed against his chest, staring down at the tearstains on her pretty face and the exhaustion in her body made his chest sting yet again.
"Emily," he soothed her, and the blue roan mare shifted impatiently beneath the Lady. "It is of no obligation of yours to worry about me," he told her gently, urging his charger closer so he could peer into her dark eyes. Their eyes met in a whirl of hazel and brown; each drowning in the endless depths of emotions they found there. "I am the King; it is I who should worry and fuss about my kingdom and my children and my favored counselor." He smiled when Emily rolled her eyes at him, and suddenly the Lord-King heard the niggling voice of Rossetti in the back of his head.
She would make a wonderful Queen and an even better wife! How do you not see what is in front of you, Aêron? Madonna mia, you are as blind as the crone who weaves the wicker for baskets! No – even blinder! Even the crone would be able to see how perfect Emilynne is for you!
What harm can come from your joining? You are both beautiful beyond the norms – your heirs would be blessed with their mother's beauty and their father's strength! You cannot ask for a kinder, smarter, more beautiful woman than the Lady Fairschilde. She's called that for a reason, Your Grace!
Your Grace!
"Your Grace?" Emily's voice jolted him back into the present moment, and Aêron blinked rapidly to clear his head before he inclined it apologetically to her. It only served to make Emily frown in concern harder. "Are you sure you wish to continue the ride?" she asked him gently. "If you are ill, I'm sure I can take Arwen and Jack by myself if you wish to return to the castle."
The Lord-King shook his head stubbornly, brushing aside her offer perhaps too brusquely. "I'm fine," he assured her again, and then Emily thought she saw a different light in the King's eyes when he gazed upon her. Very suddenly the King seemed almost nervous, as if he wasn't sure how about to go with this. Aêron licked his lips uncertainly before offering her a watery smile. "You said before that I was to tell you what bothered me."
Emily's eyes lit up at his words, and the Lady nodded almost eagerly, leaning in subconsciously to hear him better. "If it robs you of your sleep, it must be serious," she asserted.
Aêron smiled slightly at her and nudged his chestnut forward. "Come," he said, and very soon they were making their way down the river once again. When he saw that Emily was still staring after him expectantly, he gave her a mysterious smile out of the corner of his mouth. "I will tell you when we stop for our picnic," he promised her.
"Only you must promise not to break the wine bottle over my head when I do – I've been told that Cook packed a particularly good year for us today."
They caught up with the children and their Guards not far off – the neighboring stables they were intending on visiting weren't too far, and the Lord-King and Lady managed to catch them just entering the ranch. Emily had ceased her pestering at the Lord-King's side about telling her his concerns when Aêron had stopped his horse to glare at her for a whole minute. It hadn't stopped her from sulking just a touch though, but the Lady would have to wait till lunch.
"Oh, Father, look at all the horses!" Arwen exclaimed happily when they came upon a paddock of grazing horses, the young Heir Queen gasping in delight when the small herd threw their heads up suddenly and began to canter around the paddock. The young girl was infatuated by the graceful beasts; had been so since she could hold herself up in a saddle. Arwen was a skilled rider, barely even eight and already the young Heir Queen could ride, jump, side-saddle and archer from her saddle.
Getting her a new horse was inevitable, and the Lord-King wanted a horse that she could grow up right alongside with.
Aêron smiled as he watched the horses dance and leap across the paddock, amusement and approval in the Lord-King's face as he watched the herd move as a singular unit. "They're very beautiful indeed," he agreed, smiling down at the look of speechless wonder on his daughter's innocent face. He dismounted his ride, handing the reins to Mage Reid when the man came to his side, and moved to Arwen's pony. "Shall we take a closer look, sweetheart?"
Arwen all but leapt into her father's arms, eliciting fond laughs from Lady Emily and her Guards as they watched the quiet and shy Heir Queen giggle and squeal and gasp in delight at the sight of the gathering crowd of curious horses. Lady Emily smiled affectionately at the young girl, sharing a look with Captain Morgan when the bronze man gave her a playful wink. She slid her leg over her mare, accepting Morgan's help to dismount before moving over to where the Lord-King was walking his daughter around the paddock, speaking to the Heir Queen quietly.
She followed at a respectable distance yet again – personal space was imperative with the Lord-King, and she was one who practiced it too -, holding the Crown Prince by the hand and guiding him happily by the paddock and pointing out the horses to him. She paused in her step, a smile gracing her face when she saw the Lord-King and the Heir Queen; the loving father holding his daughter in his arms and leaning over the fence to stroke a curious foal's muzzle together.
"He seems to have taken a liking to you, O Heir Queen," she heard the Lord-King's low voice rumble, and Emily couldn't help the swell of warmth in her chest…and her loins. Emily blinked, startled hard by the realization of her warming body at the Lord-King; the heat was beginning to flare across her pale skin, whether from the heat and the shame or the arousal. Of all times to let your attraction to the Lord-King show, Emilynne…you choose now.
But how could she not? The Lord-King was a tall, handsome, lean man who loved his children dearly and ruled with more justice and fairness than some of his people were worth. She'd seen him in his darkest; helped pull him out of that dark abyss and kept him away from it ever since – she'd seen his anger, his rage, his grief. She'd seen him at his best and at his worst, and he'd seen much of hers too.
And yet, the Lord-King respected her, treated her well and sometimes – dare she say it – adored her despite her shortcomings.
Lady Emily shook her head decisively, chuffing to herself in disgust. Enough with your daydreams, Emilynne; he would hardly take a second glance at you if you weren't his children's tutor. She couldn't help but notice that the voice in her head sounded very much like Ian's.
Eoin.
She shuddered at his memory. Never again, she promised herself. Never again, ever.
Emily was shaken from her thoughts (thankfully) by Arwen's clear, high voice as she came running to the Lady's side. The woman smiled down at the Heir Queen, reaching down to brush the girl's dark hair from her face indulgently. "We really must start braiding your hair again, little mouse," she tittered, stroking Arwen's pale cheek lovingly. Then the Lady bent to her level, and her eyes sparkled mischievously at the Heir Queen. "Now tell me, sweet one – which of these darling horses have been so blessed as to be the Heir Queen's choice mount?"
Arwen beamed at her tutor; the woman she loved like her own mother – the woman she was sure loved her more than her mother ever did – and took Emily by the hand before running back to her father. There she took the Lord-King's hand in her other, and guided both adults towards the still boldly curious yearling. It was a handsome beast; uneven patches of white and grullo along its sleek, muscular frame and bright, alert eyes that stared out curiously at the humans.
"Father says that if I train him well enough, one day I'll be able to ride him bareback!" Arwen told the woman excitedly, wriggling between the adults as she gripped each of their hands in hers.
Emily smiled at the Heir Queen before sharing a look with the Lord-King over her head. The Crown Prince sat comfortably on her hip, leaning out to touch the yearling's snout and squealing in delight when the horse whinnied at him. She arched an eyebrow at Aêron, a mildly dubious look in her eyes. "You would let the Heir Queen train a yearling?"
Yearlings, particularly colts were highly unpredictable beasts, and took a firm, experienced hand to train and guide if they were not gelded. A flutter of fear and apprehension sat in Emily's chest at letting the young girl handle such a strong horse alone, and it was obvious in the tense lines of her mouth and eyes.
"He is a gelding," the Lord-King assured her, and tilted his head at the worried look on her face still. "She'll fare well, I promise," he found himself saying again, giving Arwen's hand a confident squeeze when the Heir Queen looked up at him. Aêron smiled down at her before he raised his eyes back to Lady Emily, and where she was shifting Jack in her hold. "Rossetti is an aficionado at handling horses, you know that. He's already volunteered his services in helping Arwen train her new gelding."
"Which," he continued, looking down at his daughter with a wink, "still needs a name, does he not? Come, little mouse -," he gestured to the yearling in front of them, shifting in closer to Arwen as Emily came up closer as well. "What shall we name this handsome fellow?"
Arwen frowned as she thought long and hard, chewing her lip and licking her lips and fussing in between the adults as she wracked her seven year old brain for a good name. "How do I name him? I've never named a horse before," she said miserably. Their royal ponies were already named when given to them, and Raffin and Hammond were not names she would've given her horse had she been the one to name it. None of the names in her mind were fitting for a horse – he needed a name that was strong, fast and brave; like her Papa!
Lady Emily lowered Jack to his feet, her arm having begun to ache under the pressure of the young boy's weight, and smiled encouragingly at the Heir Queen. "It's the same thing as naming a dog or a cat, precious thing. Don't you worry your head over it," she assured Arwen, and gestured with her chin to where their horses stood grazing idly by the side of the fence. "Perhaps you would like an example from our own brood?" she suggested.
Arwen's dark eyes lit up. "Oh, how clever!" she cried, and turned to regard their own horses for a moment. "How did you name your horses?"
"Well, the Duke of Brixton had been a dear, dear friend of mine," the Lord-King told her, smiling wistfully at his charger grazing beside Lady Emily's mare. "He was a brave comrade in arms, and he fought valiantly by my side at the fall of the Tyrant. Naming Bowen after him kept him close to heart and close to memory." Then the Lord-King smiled wryly. "And Bowen shared the Duke's odd eye color."
The chestnut stallion raised his head curiously at his name, ear twitching as he raised his heterochromic eyes. One was a bright blue, and the other a warm brown, and both focus intently on his rider. When the Lord-King nodded at him, Bowen burred quietly and resumed his grazing.
Arwen stared after her father's horse with wide-eyed awe, lips parted in fascination as she turned to Lady Emily. "And you, Emmy?" She tugged on the woman's hand eagerly for her tale. "How did you name yours?"
"How did you get yours?" the Crown Prince piped up, bouncing on his heels from her side. "Lady Penelope says that blue roans are difficult horses to catch and tame – and not many come easily to its master." He stared up at his father and tutor. "Did you bring your horse from your kingdom, Emmy?"
Lady Emily blew out an amused breath, gazing at her mare fondly before darting a surreptitious glance to the Lord-King. The story behind her mare was something they both shared. "Well, my sweet, I came to your kingdom with not much else but the clothes on my back and my living body. When your father had granted my presence in the castle, I'd begun my duties as your tutor, and as a Lady of the kingdom. That meant that I would need to travel a lot between the castle and the town, and I didn't wish to burden the carriages to guide me every time I needed to leave the castle."
The Lord-King listened with a quiet solemnity, remembering the day she'd come to the castle, broken, bleeding and dressed in what was left of her modest dress. She'd come to him, in shock and in pain, and yet had found the energy to abide by rule of land and officially request sanctuary from him. So steadfast was the Lady Fairschilde that she'd limped towards his throne, despite his fervent protests, and kissed the ring upon his hand before collapsing in his arms.
But that was not the tale she was spinning for his children now. This particular memory was a fond one of his as well.
"…one day your father called me to the grounds, and requested that I come alone. I'd been reluctant at first, but I rarely declined a challenge, and a challenge it was." He smiled out of the corner of his mouth at this – a mule was the apprentice of the Lady, he was sure. "And I walked down the grounds to the stable, and lo, there your father stood, holding Wynne's reins in hand."
"It was a gift of practicality," he told them humbly, inclining his head at the Lady when she darted an unreadable glance his way.
Emily smiled drolly at the Lord-King and continued with a smile. "It was an expensive gift of practicality," she corrected him, shaking her head indulgently when Arwen peered at her curiously. "Blue roans are a rare color for horses, that is true, and many say that the color of the horse affects the temperament it holds. Horses wear their coats as we do our titles," she told them, her voice taking an almost dreamy quality. "I named her Wynne because that is what she symbolized to me – fairness and purity."
It was then she blinked, as if woken from a trance, and she looked down at Arwen with a serene smile. "But enough about us, Your Grace – have we inspired you enough to come up with a name?" She refused to meet the Lord-King's gaze; though she could feel the heated weight of his eyes boring into the side of her face. She could remember that night as vividly as she could her name, but it was a recollection she preferred not to share with the Lord-King, lest she find herself banished from his kingdom.
The Heir Queen frowned yet again as she stared after her yearling colt, watching as the nimble creature sprinted away, darting this way and that with the ease and skill of a lightning bolt. "He moves faster than the wind," she murmured, and then Arwen's eyes snapped open wide.
How could she not have seen it before?
"Wind!" she cried, spinning to face Aêron and Emily now as she beamed at them with a broad smile, dimples clear on her face. "I shall call him Wind!"
The Lord-King and Lady stepped back as Jack and Arwen began squealing the name, laughing to themselves as the children rushed off to gather their ponies and inform the horse breeder. Aêron chuckled as he watched them trot off with Mage Reid, shaking his head fondly after his children when he caught Emily's eye. "Wind it is then," he uttered dryly, and the Lady smiled at him knowingly.
A soft, comfortable silence fell upon them then, and quickly morphed into an awkward shuffling of feet as they thought of what to say to the other. Usually they rarely needed words to communicate, but somehow the air between them had grown too thick for silence. Emily's hands found the lace edge of her riding cape, and she fiddled with its trimmings as the Lord-King cleared his throat awkwardly.
"My Lady…," he began, and was horrified to find himself blushing when the Lady's eyes met his. Suck it up, old man; you've spoken to her about worse things than this! He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried again. "Emily….I would like to observe my promise to you and speaking of what had troubled me as of late. If – if of course, you still wish for me to tell you," he stuttered, mentally kicking himself when a flash of hurt and confusion crossed her face.
"Why would I wish otherwise, Your Grace?" she asked him, genuinely confused. "I've never turned you away before – it would be unlikely that I was to do so now."
The naïve countenance on her beautiful face threatened to make the Lord-King smile – Lady Emily was a worldly woman; skilled in more languages than he was aware of and knowledgeable about many things about the world. It was why he had originally deemed her fit to teach his children after all. But what amused and fascinated him most about the woman was her ability to remain so grounded in herself despite her high-born status.
A Queen should have humility when ruling her people.
His Queen should be Emily.
"Your Grace?" Lady Emily prompted; peering at him expectantly as he mustered all the courage he could find inside him and took a deep, steadying breath.
"Lady Emily," he returned her smile with a nervous one as she looking at him encouragingly. "You have long been a favored companion and confidant to me. Though the circumstances of your arrival into my kingdom and castle had…left much to be desired, know that I do not regret your presence in my life. Know that without you in my life and in the castle, my life would definitely be a very dull life to lead. You…you really are an incredibly fascinating woman, did you know?"
Air seemed to be the hardest thing to get into her chest, as Lady Emily stared at the Lord-King with wide, uncertainly curious eyes. There was a peculiar tone in his words, an odd gleam of warmth and…disquiet in his eyes as he stood before her now. What confused her most was that she found that she couldn't accurately define the emotions on his face, nor the ones roiling in a hot pit inside her stomach. She licked her lips nervously, her voice a throaty hum when she spoke.
"My King, I'm not sure I follow," she confessed, brow wrinkling slightly when the Lord-King suddenly seemed to be afraid of what she was about to say. "Have I been the reason you've been kept from your bed?" Emily looked beyond upset at the revelation.
Aêron rushed to soothe her, sputtering through his words in a jumbled mess. "No, of course not – I mean yes – well not directly -." He stared at Emily with a pained grimace as the Lady seemed torn between apologizing and asking him to shut up. "Emily -." Out of impulse, the Lord-King reached for her hand, grasping in firmly in his as the Lady's eyes snapped up to his face in a start before darting down to their joined hands.
The King in him demanded that he release her, but the man in Aêron noted the soft, silky smoothness of her skin against his. He could hold her hand for the rest of eternity, if it fit the way it did in his hand – the perfect size, the perfect shape, the perfect fit to the empty space of his palm. The Lord-King was emboldened further when he realized that the Lady had yet to pull her hand from his.
"Emily," he said again, and this time her name fell from his lips in a quiet thrum – so low and intimate, that the Lady could not suppress the shiver it wrought along her body. It was the way a man spoke the name of his lover. He stepped closer to her, such minimal space between them that he could smell the soft tease of the Lady's lavender scent tickling his nose. "Emily, I -,"
"Lord-King Aêron."
They separated hastily, so fast that Emily barely had time to cry out when her boot caught on a protruding rock before she was falling backwards. She flailed out her hand to the King, gasping his name – his given name – in her fright just as the Lord-King lunged for her. Very suddenly Emily found a pair of strong, firm hands gripping her biceps before she was propelled forward into a broad, warm chest. She gasped again, sharp and muffled into the chest of her King as her hands came to grip the sides of his narrow waist while the Lady tried to steady her pounding heart.
It was a moment of gasping breaths and tight embraces before the Lord-King pulled back slightly to stare down at her face, hazel eyes clouded with concern. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly, breathless amidst the scent of lavender and spice and something uniquely her. Her body was pulled tight against his, and Aêron could feel the soft warmth of her curves permeating through the tight corset dress and riding cape. Gods – he could feel it through his shirt and cape!
"I'm – I'm fine, Your Majesty," Emily stuttered hurriedly, pressing her hands insistently against the man's broad chest until the Lord-King acquiesced and released her…with some reluctance. Her cheeks burned as she lowered her gaze from Aêron's intense stare, quelling the spreading heat being pressed against his muscular body had caused in the pit of her stomach. The Lady Emily cleared her throat, and turned to where Morgan stood quiet and as unobtrusive as he could manage.
The darker man bowed his head slightly. "Forgive me, Your Majesty," he uttered lowly, and his dark eyes glanced over Lady Emily and the Lord-King with an amused glint. "The children grow hungry and restless for their meal." He had seen the dark haired pair speaking from a distance; knew from the closing gap between them that whatever the Lord-King was saying was of a highly personal matter and something Morgan did not wish to interrupt. But the Crown Prince had announced his hunger impatiently, and the Captain of the Guard was sworn to obey.
Emily half-turned to Aêron, expecting the Lord-King to oblige the beckoning of his children, but was startled to find the man's face set in a resolute frown. "Attend to their lunch then," he ordered Morgan, waving a dismissive hand in the air as he turned back to Emily. "The Lady and I will follow suit soon enough. I must speak with Lady Emily now, lest the last of my courage abandons me," he muttered the last few words, that only he and Emily could hear them before waving Morgan away one last time.
With a curt nod of his head, the Captain of the Guard spun on his heels to tend to the royal children, leaving the Lord-King and Lady alone once more. If his instincts were true – and rarely did they ever betray him – Morgan knew that what the King was about to tell Emily was something a long time in the making.
Soon enough, there would be another Queen on the throne, and more royal children to guard and play with.
Confused, and perhaps a little anxious, Emily turned to the Lord-King, licking the corner of her mouth nervously. "My King -," she began, but suddenly Aêron had stepped into her personal space yet again. The gasp hitched in her throat, and the Lord-King's eyes trailed down the long, elegant neck of the Lady.
"You've never called me by my given name before," he uttered lowly. He wanted to hear it on her lips again – and again and again and again, if he could help it. Never had it been spoken as…distractingly as it had from the Lady's red lips.
Emily blinked, flushing pink with embarrassment. "It has never been allowed, my King," she reminded him, keeping her gaze somewhere between his chest and behind his arm. "The Lord-King's name is only ever spoken by his closest councilmen and his family."
Very slowly, he reached up with his hand, slipping his fingers under the soft skin of her chin and guiding Emily's eyes up to his as he stared down with a dangerously blazing gaze. "You are my closest council," he said lowly, his voice dripping like molten honey over her skin. "And perhaps, if you would grant it, you shall be my family as well."
Emily's heart jolted in her chest. "I beg your pardon?"
"You asked me to tell you what kept me from my bed," he murmured, dark eyes trailing her face, caressing the soft contours and hard ridges like a physical touch that had Emily shivering. "I wish to do so now – without interruptions and without the council breathing down my neck. I am doing this because I feel it in my heart. I know this decision is the right one to make."
Her heart was pounding now, her stomach clenched and aflutter as Emily stared up at the Lord-King. Her head was beginning to buzz a quiet hum with every breath that seemed to hitch in her throat. "My King…." The title came in an almost reverent whisper; a breathy sigh of nervousness and uncertainty.
Aêron shifted on his feet and summoned his courage. "The council has been restless with my continuing bachelorhood," he revealed, long-suffering exasperation in his voice that Emily knew had vexed him for many months. She had been the one to soothe his temper after the council meetings. "They will not rest until there is another Queen on the throne and by my side. I have managed, for a while now, to ease their fussing, but now it seems that their patience has worn thin with my excuses."
He licked his lips, and Emily found her eyes tracking the movement unconsciously. "Emily…" Aêron reached down for her hand, grasping it gently in his and was gratified when Emily twined their fingers together. Squeezing gently, he met her gaze and held it. "I ask you this not because of my obligation to the throne. You came to my kingdom, you've saved my life and my children's, and for that I will owe you a debt of a lifetime. But now I ask you for one last favor, if you are able to find it in your heart to grant me it."
Emily couldn't breathe. The air refused to stay within her chest as she stepped back and stared speechlessly at the Lord-King when he slowly began to drop onto a knee in front of her. A sharp gasp finally came from her throat, and Emily's free hand came up to her mouth in disbelief. Her wide, dark eyes sought Aêron's frantically, incredulously as the Lord-King took her hand in both of his. "Your Grace, this is very sudden!" she murmured, and her head began to spin more.
When had it gotten so stiflingly hot?
The Lord-King smiled up at her, his mouth twitching nervously though his eyes were warm and unassuming. "To us, it is," he agreed, "but to many it's been a long time coming." In that moment, they shared a quiet, knowing smile before Aêron squeezed her hand reassuringly. "It does not make it any less sincere, I promise you. The children adore you; they love you more than they could ever love their mother, and…and lately I've found myself unable to resist my feelings for you as well." Aêron flushed pink at his confession, and Emily found it the most adorable sight. "You are undoubtedly the most beautiful woman of all the land; your spirit burns a flame that I cannot help but yield to like a drunken moth to a blazing flame. Your courage and strength and grace have astounded me since the day you came to the castle, and my fascination and admiration of you grows with every passing moment I am in your presence."
And then the Lord-King cleared his throat firmly, and gave Emily a resolute nod. "Lady Emilynne, Fairschilde of the House Prentiss; governess and tutor to the royal children Thunderfrost - it would do me great honor and joy if you would be my Queen."
Emily's mouth parted in a wordless breath, and then shut, and then opened once more. All the while, no sound could be heard from her lips besides the quiet gasp of air as her brain rushed in a flurry to process this proposal. A proposal for her to be his bride and Queen – to rule the kingdom together and bear his children –
"I can't breathe!" she blurted suddenly, and Emily began to sway on her feet as black spots danced in and out of her vision. The corset wrapped around her body was suddenly maddeningly tight, and Emily's free hand sought desperately for its release. "I can't breathe!"
Aêron was immediately on his feet, hands grasping Emily's waist in alarm when the woman's face began to drain of color. "Emily, are you alright?" he demanded hurriedly, voice tense with concern as he stared at her increasingly pale face and heaving chest. His brain immediately directed him to the corset she was so desperately trying to remove, and without thinking – ripped the corset laces apart. The act pulled her to him with a violent jerk, and Emily gave a sharp cry as her lungs seized the newly brought freedom.
But it was much too late, and Emily once again found herself stumbling into the Lord-King's arms, her name at his frantic lips. The last thing she remembered before the darkness was thinking 'Mercy, what he'll do to my dress on our wedding night'.
