NOTES
I want to thank everyone who read and reviewed this fanfic, every single comment it's very much appreciated by the both us, and it is really encouraging to know you are enjoying our story so far. The same thing goes to everyone who favorited and followed the story. Every kind of feedback is appreciated, actually. We don't actually know where the story is going, but we are really excited about it. The only thing we know right now is that we will alternate writing chapters. Beccaylaa writes one and then I write one and so on. We are deeply enjoying writing this and we hope you're all enjoying reading it as much as we are. So thank you, thank you for reading!
And, moving on, here's the second chapter! I hope you all enjoy it and I can't wait to read your opinion in the comments.
-Eydis.
Chapter II. The Troubled Minds.
Magnus opened his eyes slightly and waited a second for his sight to get used to the darkness surrounding him. There were a few candles lit in the room but none was enough to illuminate the whole place. He was in his chambers, he noticed. There was a faint smell of herbs around the room, probably used to heal his wounds, and a dying fire in the hearth that brought little warmth to the room. Or maybe it provided enough warmth, he couldn't truly tell, his whole body felt too hot and the environment too cold.
He tried to move but a shot of pain stopped him. His chest, his ribs, were burning in agony. He cleared his throat and cringed in pain once more. His whole throat ached, so did his jaw and his nose. It was painful to breathe and even more painful to move. This is it. Father finally managed to kill me and now Tobias can take the throne and I'll wither into nothing. He rolled his eyes, the first movement that didn't cause him unbearable pain, at his own thought and restrained the desire to laugh. If breathing hurt, laughing would probably kill him.
Maybe I should laugh and end this. He stayed completely still, looking at the ceiling. His hands clenched in tight fists. Great. Now I am gloating in self-pity. Marvelous.
His throat was dry and, under the hope that a little sip of water would ease the ache somewhat, he tried to move his head to the side, looking for a glass or a jar of water that some servant might have left close. However, the thought dissipated from his mind once he saw his mother sitting in a chair next to his bed. Their eyes met and she blinked rapidly. There was something off about her, an air of expectation and a sense of hope that threw him off. His mother was usually so impassive, so cold, like a frozen lake in the middle of winter. Now, however..., now she looked like an avalanche of snow, unstoppable, uncontainable... unstable.
He parted his lips to speak, a sense of numbness spreading through his jaw when he did, but she stood so quickly the words died in his mouth with an abrupt breath.
"My boy, I thought you were sleeping. I thought you were having a nightmare." She approached him and tenderly brushed his hair out of his forehead. He parted his lips a little bit more, trying to speak, but he was incapable of doing so. He stared at her, too surprised by her behaviour for the words to leave his chest. It should be expected, after all, that his mother was caring in such a situation. He had never been this badly injured by his father before. The incident with the scar had been bloody, but had not cause as much damage as this instance. But it still felt odd to have her there, tenderly looking out for him. "How do you feel?"
The ache in his throat was bothering him and he knew that every word would cause a great deal of pain, so he restricted himself to his immediate needs. "Water."
The word left his parted lips like the croak of a bird and Althea nodded curtly just once and moved to the door. He watched her and then stared at the door when she disappeared through it. Not a minute had passed when she came back with a glass filled with crystalline water.
"Drink, my dear." She pressed the glass against his mouth, tilting it slightly and letting the water caress his lips to then fall, fresh, into his mouth. The pain was instant, like broken glass pressing against the walls of his throat. He avoided the reflex to grimace or cringe and kept drinking, a newfound thirst urging him on. Every swallow was a shot of sharp pain but it slowly started to dissipate into a smouldering ache, not quite as strong but bothersome still. When he had already drank half the content of the glass, his mother pull it away. "Don't drink too much. The healer said it would be better to drink small sips at a time."
He nodded and sank back into his pillows, letting his eyes close. He tried to take deep breaths and ignore the pain. One, the world started to hide behind a thick mist, two, sound and light faded slowly, a humming sound covering his ears, three…
"Magnus". His mother's voice resembled for a second the coldness it usually tinted her every word and Magnus opened his eyes abruptly to focus on her. She stood now straighter, with a face that revealed nothing. Something has happened. Something is wrong. The weird air he sensed around her earlier was still there. An air of expectation and a sense of hope. He gulped and licked his lips. She spoke before he could. "There is something I must tell you, son. Something has happened."
Is it about Lucia? He was desperate to ask but the ghost of pain kept him in silence. His hand grabbed hers, urging his mother to speak.
"Your father, my boy, he..." she drifted off and looked at him in the eyes. She wouldn't look so peaceful had something happened to Lucia. And father would never hurt her. Before he could relax, Althea spoke again. "Your father died."
The words lacked meaning and for a second they felt as if they were bubbles in a thick mud that covered the entire room. The air was too thick to breathe and her words couldn't get through. They never reached his ears.
But then the bubbles exploded and the air was cleared. Fresh air filled his lungs in a deep involuntary inhale and his mother's words were screamed with the force of cannonballs. Your father died. He frowned. His father was pretty much alive when he was choking him, how could he be dead now? Gaius was a healthy man. How? How?
He looked at his mother and she was attentively looking at him, as if waiting for his reaction. Should I react a certain way? It was shocking and he mostly felt numb. But then, there it was, a small piece of pain in his heart. My father died. The thought should have created a greater impact, at least a few tears. But there was just a little, tiny, piece of pain and a numb feeling floating through his limbs.
My father died, he repeated the words in a vain attempt to create a bigger reaction but the result was the same. The little piece of pain, the numbness and something else. Something sweeter and disconcerting. Something akin to relief.
And then three words left his mouth without him even meaning two. Three words that came from the deepest part of his heart, like a breath of his soul. Three words that brought tears to his mother's eyes.
"We are free."
She smiled under the veil of tears and nodded eagerly, almost desperately. Her eyes shone with the warm light of the candles and, suddenly, she seemed ten years younger. Younger, stronger, happier. She approached him with a swift movement and hugged him tightly. His injured ribs protested but he kept absolutely quiet. Magnus didn't want to spoil the moment. "We finally are, my son. No one will hurt us ever again. No one will hurt my children ever again."
Her voice, so full of conviction and love, melted his heart. He might have lost a father, but his mother, the mother he remembered fondly from his childhood, that caring mother that loved him deeply and looked at him with hope and the promise of a bright future, that woman was finally back. Without her mask of ice, without her innuendo of indifference.
"My boy, I love you so." She whispered to him and Magnus buried his face in his mother's shoulder.
"I love you too, mother." He smiled. "I love you too."
But a tiny thought keep nagging him at the back of his mind. His mother's words were repeated over and over again, overlapping each other. Your father died - No one will hurt my children again. And a deep voice, a deep voice that sounded remarkably like his father overshadowing his mother's words till they turned into a rumble of nonsense, whispered to him: How convenient.
Auranos.
With a deep sigh, king Corvin stared at the stack of scrolls and paperwork in front of him. It had been a long day, having to spend most of it locked in the very same room he was now, the council room, in an endless meeting with his advisors; and he had no energy left to deal with letters, arrangements and petitions. The meeting was done, the advisors had been dismissed but the work was not finished at all.
Such a heavy burden to be a king. His late wife, Elena, had once whispered those words to him, mockingly. He barely knew her back then, but the way she smiled and japed had always been able to take his breath away. It is not such a burden when said weight is carried by two. A king is nothing without his queen. That had been his answer.
Corvin shook his head. What a bitter joke. A king is nothing without his queen, yet here I stand without you, my love. He heard her laugh, deep in his heart where she'd stayed since the day she left life as they knew it—where she belonged—and Corvin smiled. He knew what the laugh meant.
I am right here, dearest. Right here.
With a deep sigh, he looked at the scrolls and grimaced slightly. He needed a plan of action. First, he would make a quick scan through every paper to know what he was about to deal with. Then, he would organize the damn thing through level of urgency. Finally it came the actual work. Sighing for the third time, he started working. Scroll after scroll, a quick look in each. It shouldn't have taken him more than a minute, it was a simple task. A quick read to then move to the next one and nothing else.
But a house sigil he knew well enough imprinted in the seal of a letter caught his attention and stopped his heart. King Gaius, he thought with dread, staring at the snake in deep red sealing wax. King Gaius could only mean trouble. No good thing came out of such a vicious creature and no good news came from Limerian letters with the Damora sigil on them.
He stared at it for a long time, as if the letter was about to caught on fire and burn the tip of his fingers. As if the snake in the seal was about to come to life and crawl out of the sealing wax, ready to bury its poisonous fangs in anyone he loved, in anything he held dearly. Poisonous words from a poisonous king. He suddenly grabbed the letter opener with rigid and precise movements, a frown marring his fair features. Once the seal was broken, he took out the letter before he hesitated and held it in front of his eyes.
Without any further preamble, he started reading.
King Corvin,
It is with great sorrow that, under the power of the Royal family of Limeros, I inform you that King Gaius Damora, first of his name, has passed away. As it's required by our faith, the monarch it's being honored in a discreet service in the Temple of Valoria, and will be buried in the royal graveyard, three days after his demise. Since the rightful heir to the throne, Prince Magnus Lukas Damora, has only witness the passing of eighteen years, it has befallen in the hands of her majesty, Queen Althea Damora, the duty to rule Limeros until the prince comes of age.
Attached to this letter are the necessary forms to update the treaties between both kingdoms, Auranos and Limeros, and maintain peace and the previous agreements between both monarchies. With the best of wishes, the Damora family reaches out to you, your Grace, in an effort to improve the relationship between royalties in such a difficult time for the Limerian royal family.
Sincerely, in the name of her majesty, dowager Queen Althea Damora,
the members of the new Limerian royal council.
Once he finished the letter, Corvin let it slide from his hands and stared at it as it fell on the wooden table. He was at a loss for words, none of them fit to express his feelings and thoughts. King Gaius is dead. That vicious snake is truly dead. Laughter clawed its way into his chest and he nearly choked on it, caught of guard by his own reaction. There were so many things in the letter that triggered different reactions out of him, that none of them by themselves felt right. He wanted to laugh because the most poisonous person he knew was gone from the world. He wanted to cringe under the thought of a new ruler that could be just like the last, or even crueler. He wanted to sigh happily under the prospect of peace.
He wanted to narrow his eyes at the letter and mistrust every single word from it. After all, he had learned not to trust what seemed to be too good. A lesson he'd learn from Gaius, actually, who had meant it as a lesson for his son: We should not desire everything that shines. But, another lesson came to his mind at the same moment: The man that fears losing has already lost. And relationships between kingdoms had always been a game that required skill and patience.
A new game was just beginning, with a new set of players. King Gaius had kept his family tightly under his thumb, what would they do now that they were free? The boy, Prince Magnus, was already old enough to carry his father's traits, or maybe he would despise his legacy as much as Corvin did. Queen Althea was a sort of an enigma to Corvin. A deeply controlled woman that showed no emotion and revealed no weakness. Silent and cold, the queen remained loyal to her husband... but Corvin knew well enough that it could all be a lie. With such a reserved person, it was hard to know. And then there was Gaius' daughter, Lucia. A girl of Cleo's age who was said to be the fairest woman in all of Limeros. Was she a snake or a harmless rabbit?
He passed the tip of his index finger over the bridge of his nose in a slow movement, an old habit of his that revealed that he was deep in thought. It was a delicate subject, after all, and it required his full, undivided attention. The Limerian family, the now ruling family of Limeros, was a mystery to him. Were they friend or foe? How could he know? Knowing your enemy is half the battle. He could not approach such a situation blindfolded.
I need ears. I need eyes. I need someone there that can report back to me.
It couldn't be a spy. He hardly knew anything about the foreign kingdom, much less what they would do, could do, if a spy was discovered. Not to mention the impact it would have in their newfound relationship if such an act was discovered. No, an obvious spy was not an option. He needed someone with a good excuse to approach the family and with the noble blood required to hold an acquaintance with royalty. Someone that looked the part of innocence and that he trusted completely. An appropriate representation of the crown.
Or the crown itself.
He considered it for a moment, still staring at the letter. He could leave one of the members of the council in charge until he came back and he could assess the situation himself, but the Damoras could misinterpret his intentions, claiming his arrival to be fueled by an ill motive. He needed an excuse to travel, a strong one.
And then it came to him, the realization of what he could offer. Since they were extending their hands to offer the permanence of peace, he could offer something that would make said peace stronger. The offering of the consideration of a marriage alliance.
Emilia was the heiress to his throne, the next queen of Auranos, and she was already betrothed, though in secret, to Simon Ranus. The marriage was already set to take place after her coronation, which would take place whenever Emilia felt ready since Corvin was willing to abdicate as soon as she asked. But Cleiona, of only sixteen, remained unattached to any kind of commitment and was the perfect candidate for the task. He would travel with her under said excuse, he would watch the ruling family of Limeros to then leave with a clear perspective of what was he dealing with. Regarding the marriage alliance, Cleiona would be the one to chose, most probably refusing to marry, as he knew she wanted nothing but freedom for the time being, and his predicament would be solved. He would ask her to politely decline to the queen of Limeros the prospect of marriage and they could safely walk away, since they were promising nothing but consideration.
It was a technicism and it had its risks, but it was better than to approach such a problem with no clear picture whatsoever of what was he dealing with. Yes, it was his better option.
He would start the arrangements in the morning and send a letter asking for a visit as soon as he could. The most difficult task, however, would be carried out as late as possible. Telling his daughter Cleo was definitely the most difficult thing he would have to do and, probably, the most dangerous one.
But it had to be done.
