A Quick Note on Chapter Numbering:

On 24 Sept 2022, I added the Foreword, which means that all the chapters were pushed up a number. So now Chapter 1 is labeled Chapter 2 in navigation. Please note that reviews made by that date refer to the actual chapter number. So reviews for this chapter made by 24 Sept would be labeled Chapter 1, but reviews made as of 25 Sept will be labeled Chapter 2. Apologies for the confusion.

A/N

This chapter really needed some revision. It's 1k words longer and almost entirely rewritten to fit the style of the rest of the story. Let me know if you enjoy it!

xo-CE

The inspiration for this chapter comes courtesy of Audioslave, Royal Blood, Cage the Elephant, and any moody song on my playlists.

Chapter 1: Rage and Revelations

Van Fanel, displaced King of Fanelia, opened the door and stepped back into the council room and the presence of twenty-odd other regents, generals, knights, and orderlies, only to immediately regret it.

"Fanelia, you've got to be kidding, don't you think you should be with your wife?" Dryden spoke first from across the room.

Van ignored the other king and shut the door.

"I agree with Dryden, you can take some time to be with Hitomi. She looked exhausted," Millerna added, actually sounding genuinely concerned.

Grumbling to himself, Van tamped down the doubt her statement might have stirred and trained his eyes on his former position around the table. After all, it hadn't even been five minutes since he had left his wife. His body still hummed from the pleasant imprint of her head on his shoulder, his arms still tingled from her body as he'd carried her, and his cheek still burned from her kiss. It might be hard for him to change his focus, but he had to. He needed to find a way to ignore these sensations and push on with the war planning. He must discipline his mind to ignore her last whispered plea to return to her.

A looming man in the back spoke up, "Why don't you go take a nap with her, your Majesty?"

Van grit his teeth. As if it wasn't enough that he was distracted by his wife, he had to listen to the teasing of people who ought to be worried about strategy, not his complicated love life. They should be focusing on the new, potentially-war-winning information Hitomi had provided, not making innuendos about her and him.

Just as Van opened his mouth to say something to this effect, someone else spoke up.

"She sure looked like she needed to be taken care of, if you know what I mean," a burly-haired knight said with a slap on his neighbor's shoulder.

Skin prickling, whatever words he might have said died on his tongue.

"You didn't want to help her feel better, King Fanel?" a general chortled in response.

Exasperated, face burning, Van angled to the little table with the map that had been laid out where a group of knights had gathered.

What good would it do acknowledging their comments? He didn't need these taunts. He didn't need these questions. He didn't need more doubts. It was difficult enough understanding what was going on in his head. He needed movement of mind if not body, to focus on preparing a new strategy, to fight, not to think about his wife on the other side of the palace.

"Yeah, King Van, what gives? Why didn't you stay with her?"

The question from some anonymous soul behind him made his footsteps falter. Sucking in a breath, he closed his eyes, hoping that everyone was done.

Why hadn't he stayed with her?

That was all too easy to answer: because he never had. He'd always left her to herself. It was easier that way.

"I'll go sit with her!" young Duke Chid cried out, oblivious to what the others were clearly implying.

As soon as his cousin-in-law said it, the thought pricked Van's heart with a painful jab. Aware that everyone was watching his reaction, Van turned to see the duke smiling hopefully at him.

Chid had the right to sit with her, Van knew this, and for a moment he questioned if maybe she would prefer her cousin's company over his. Maybe it would be better that way.

Or maybe not.

An image of Hitomi's intent, shy eyes meeting his flashed to mind, sparking a smoldering possessiveness alight in his bosom. Chid had turned to leave, taking Van's silence as assent, and when he noticed, a sudden burst of panic fanned that small flame: if anyone ought to sit with his wife, it should be him, her husband.

The thought propelled him to take a step and a breath in preparation to call after him, to debase himself and effectively concede defeat before every other dignitary here.

But a snort on his left caught his ear and stopped him in his tracks.

Turning his head, he saw Allen Shaezar, Knight Caeli, leaning towards his neighbor as they stood close to the map table. "She's about as fun to bed as a wild hog," the knight murmured loudly with a low snicker.

Heart skipping, neck flushing hot, Van squared himself at the man and asked in a low, dangerous voice, "What did you just say about my wife, Shaezar?"

The other knight, who was mid-smile, noticed Van's expression and immediately sidestepped away from Allen.

Everyone in the room turned as Van took a step towards the offending knight. Duke Chid must have paused too, because Van didn't hear the door open, though he might not have as his pulse throbbed in his ears and his focus was on the tall, blond knight smirking at him three steps away.

Van had often been disgusted by the Knight Caeli, who often had one wretched female or another in his tent when they were on the battlefield. There were rumors, too, that his knighthood had been bought, but Van, out of respect to King Dryden, pretended he hadn't heard them.

Shaezar had a grudge against Van, too, though he didn't know why. He suspected that Allen held him responsible for the war, or perhaps he was just an easy target as a refugee king. Either way, up until now, Van had tolerated being the man's target with ever thinning patience. Comments aimed at his wife were a different thing altogether, and that newfound possessiveness he thought was aflame earlier all but ignited now. After all, he had been unable to protect Hitomi from Basram and Zaibach two months ago, but he could protect her from scoundrels now.

Allen's blue eyes glinted. "Do you have a problem, King Fanel?" he asked with mock sincerity and a pretentious little bow.

That did it.

Like a solid strike of a pommel against a window, Van's tapped out emotional self-control shattered. All at once, those swirling, confounding thoughts he had been attempting to subdue combined and combusted into a flaming anger that consumed his entire being with heat.

With a rush of hair and leather, Van crushed the Knight Caeli into the wall with a heavy thud, pressing his arm against the other man's neck. "Care to insult my Queen again, Shaezar?" he growled into the man's face.

Allen's head had hit the wall and now he blinked, gasping, his hands scrambling instinctively to grapple at Van's forearm. The king wasn't as tall, but he had more bulk, and now he planted his boots into the floor and pressed harder. Allen's eyes bounced around the room, seeking out help, but none came forward.

A new idea formed in Van's mind just then—a new reason for Shaezar to hate him.

"You're jealous, is that it, Shaezar?" Van spat.

When the knight's eyes flew wide, Van knew he'd hit the mark. "She rejected you, didn't she? Are you jealous she's my wife, Shaezar? Is that it?" he said with a growl.

Van wanted to smile at Allen's surprised expression, but the king's victory was short lived. As he reveled in his momentary success, Allen was able to pull Van's arm down.

"If I had to guess," he wheezed, "I'm not the only one she's rejected. Can you even call her your wife, Fanel?"

Only his best kingly instinct preserved Van's pride and Allen's life right then. Pressing his arm back up, harder, into the man's throat, he barely had enough presence of mind to keep from crushing the man's windpipe. "Care to repeat that, Shaezar?"

"I saw how you looked at her," he wheezed, lips twisted in a sneer.

Van felt the blood drain from his face.

He and his wife had acted their parts well—hadn't they? Or had he himself given them away with his initially hostile treatment of her—before she pulled the pillow out of her dress—when she looked as if she were pregnant—as pregnant as she could have been had they consummated their marriage?

The king wished without hope that the insult was just a wild guess on Allen's part, but he knew the truth.

The real truth.

That while he and his wife's initial abstinence had been mutually agreed upon, Van had in actuality avoided her as much as possible since their wedding day. He appeared with her only when obligation or tradition dictated and occupied himself otherwise with his normal business and dealings. Contrary to Allen's implication, Hitomi had never had the opportunity to reject him. Van had spent five months keeping her at arm's length.

Van was the one guilty of rejection.

Allen gasped a laugh, but Van didn't pay attention. He couldn't see Allen's face right in front of him anymore. Instead, he saw in his mind Hitomi as she had been twenty minutes ago: supposedly large with child, her entire person filthy, but her mien dignified, nervous, and pleased. He recalled all too clearly how his heart had squeezed with a jealous anger that she carried another man's child.

But now he saw things differently. He could only reflect that pain back onto himself.

After all, could he really blame her? He had not done more than observe her from a safe distance. He'd left her to herself, to make a home in a foreign land. He'd never even had a private meal with her. Could he really be angry with her if she'd been obliged to find warmth and companionship in the arms of another man?

The idea stung and twisted like a sword in his heart. If he felt so deeply over an imagined lover of hers, how much pain might she have felt from his very real neglect? She had, after all, left her country, her family, and her life at his invitation. He was the one who had asked her to his home only for him to leave her out in the cold.

The realization sent acid burning up his throat.

Muscles shaking, Van blinked and his vision came into focus on Allen's mottled face. It took a moment to remember that the knight had made a crude comment about his wife. That's what had started this.

Van stepped back, releasing him.

"I'm done listening to your insults," he said as forcefully as he could.

Allen caught himself against the wall, gasping, rubbing his throat with angry eyes aimed at Van.

The king waited for something to happen, but didn't know what that something was. Thankfully, even though he wanted to flee, his kingly pride kept him in place, years of habit squared his shoulders, and practiced dignity kept his chin and eyes up. He'd never wished so hard to be invisible. Muscles frozen, his lungs seized, and his hearing went muffled. Distantly, as if through a window, he saw Dryden grip Allen by the arm and escort the sulking knight out of the room.

The door slammed shut.

Van flinched and his senses returned. All at once, he felt everyone staring at him, could feel their gazes crawling across his skin. Stubbornly, blindly, he cast his eyes about the room, challenging them to say anything more, to humiliate him further.

But nobody spoke. Even the normally enthusiastic Chid remained mute.

Now the anger was gone, his muscles quivered with exhaustion. Wishing he could blink and make everyone disappear, he swallowed down the bile rising in his throat and flexed and relaxed his hands at his sides.

Thankfully, Millerna broke the silence. "Well, I think it's about time for lunch," she said, her voice piercing the vacuous room with its false cheer.

And thankfully, the people heeded her. Without hesitation, figures began sliding out of the war room, moving around Van at arm's length. He listened to the shuffling of their footsteps, the only sound in the room. When Queen Millerna handed him the heavy pillow Hitomi had pulled from her dress, he took it and turned towards the wall of windows, blatantly ignoring whatever it was she said.

Unconsciously, the king started walking, making it to a window just as the door closed behind the last person. With a deep breath, he urged his muscles to relax and pressed his hand into the glass.

What he wouldn't give to have the peace of his study, with its own wall of windows framed in ancient wood instead of stone, with shelves of large, leather-bound books instead of empty stone walls. He used to sit at his old desk and look up towards his family grove or listen to the water in the brook down below in the garden. Hitomi had her own little plot there that he could see if he stood at the window.

Van cursed at himself. That was in the past. It was gone, burned, destroyed. He might never have it again, might never see it again, and perhaps he didn't deserve to.

Still, he desperately needed the clarity of looking outside, of seeing trees and water and nature.

Palas did not afford a view like that, however. While he could see the mountains, it wasn't the same. No, the sun was shining too high and too bright and reflected too harshly off the vast expanse of white stone that built up the city. It blinded his eyes, making them water, and he squeezed them shut and stepped aside where the glare wasn't so bad.

Sucking in a centering breath, Van worked to clear his mind and ease the tension in his chest. Part of combat training included meditation, and so this should be easy. Leaning against the cooler wall, he focused on calming his heart, on urging each muscle to relax, on opening his mind to the peace the sunshine offered.

It was at this time that Van realized that rushing Allen had erased the feel of Hitomi's weight in his arms. With a pang of disappointment, Van wondered if he should be angry at Allen for that. He had liked that feeling and—.

Van's thought's skittered to a halt.

He had liked holding her. He had enjoyed how she fit in his arms.

Goosebumps shivered up his arms. Van cleared his throat, glancing around the room, checking to make certain he was still alone. Satisfied that was the case, he readjusted his position and tried again to clear his mind.

Another deep breath. Another attempt to open his mind. Another stray thought that he wanted to hold his wife again.

Van was unprepared for his imagination granting him a visceral vision of Hitomi, naked in his arms, gazing up at him. For a second, he swore he could almost feel her running one fingernail down his arm.

Van opened his eyes with a shudder as his body flooded with an erotic heat. The arm in question burned pleasantly.

The sun moved behind some clouds that hadn't been visible before, temporarily relieving him of the glare from outside.

He closed his eyes, inhaled, and opened his mind again.

This time, he was walking next to her in his garden, her hand in his as she smiled at him.

His hand twitched, feeling empty.

Another breath, deeper this time. Another imagining.

This time, her laughing green eyes locked with his above the messy, black hair of a child in her arms.

His lips twitched, but before he could react to the thought of their child in her arms, the sun came back out from behind the clouds and reflected just so off a roof, blinding him, even with his eyes closed.

Shocked from his daydream, he turned his back to the wall and sucked in a shaky breath. His hands clenched the forgotten pillow. Heart pounding in his ears, core swirling with tension, Van allowed himself to feel this visceral yearning for perhaps the very first time in his life.

It was a feeling he'd never allowed himself, not before he was king with Merle, nor after with the endless count of girls who flirted with him. He'd so thoroughly disciplined himself that he hadn't realized he'd been missing anything, but now...

Maybe there was more for him to experience. Maybe there was more to his life. Maybe there was supposed to be more in his marriage with Hitomi.

As this thought settled peacefully in his mind, Van let out a deep, long exhale. His muscles uncoiled, his heart slowed its racing, and his breathing deepened naturally.

Van blinked as he focused again on the council room around him, its emptiness only compounding his present emotional state. When his eyes caught the map that had been laid out for his wife not so long ago, he stepped to it languidly, grateful for something to think about. Troop and battery figurines had been placed in the key locations Hitomi had pointed out, as if the others had begun to plan a new counter-offensive during the time he'd taken to carry her to his room.

But he saw none of those. Instead, he scanned the map, envisioning the potential routes his wife might have used on her trek here. The easiest route was the main road, but reports of enemies along it kept most travelers off. Another route, not the shortest but the most direct, cut over a couple passes and through the dragon glades. It had been risky enough, her traveling all this way alone in a war, but the thought of her cutting through that way sent a chill up his spine. He prayed she hadn't. He could have lost—.

Van shook his head to send away the sickening thought. Whatever road she'd traveled to get here, Van was all too aware of the worth of her undertaking. That she'd done it for the sake of the country he loved and fought for was no small thing. That she'd sacrificed herself for the sake of helping him filled him with a curious warmth he might call gratitude. What kind of queen makes that sacrifice herself instead of sending someone else?

Van almost smiled with pride at the thought of his wife being that kind of queen, but another thought came to him.

She could have sent someone else. She could have just found a trusted messenger. Certainly there was one person she could have trusted to make the perilous journey in her place.

So, why...?

Unless...

Unless she wanted to do it herself.

But again, why? Why would she want to?

Heart skipping, Van looked up from the map.

Could it possible she didn't come all this way just to bring them this information?

Had Hitomi come because she wanted to see him?