.:The Start Of The Rest Of My Life:.

Myron was there, in our dream. But he wasn't acknowledging my presence. He was seated on the ground by the road, purposefully ignoring me as I sat down besides him. When I laid my hand on his shoulder, he gently shrugged it away.

"What have I done, Myron?" My voice was choked with tears. He grimaced at the sound – pain flashed in his eyes. "Why are you ignoring me like this?"

He didn't answer. I remained at his side, my mind buzzing with questions. Should I tell Myron about his child? Should I tell him of my marriage to Bacall? How would he react? What had I done? I touched his cheek gently, working my fingertips back into the tight mess of his black curls, trying to gain even an ounce of knowledge of what he was feeling behind that unreadable mask of his face. He shoulders relaxed as I lovingly massaged his scalp, eyes falling closed as he sighed.

"Eloryn, do you hate me?"

I was taken a-back by his question. "How could I hate you? Myron, I could never find reason to hate you."

"Not even after all I did?" He turned to me, his crystal blue eyes pleading with me as he took my hands in his. "I drugged you. I kidnapped you. I hit you. I tried to take advantage of you. And yet still you claim that you do not hate me?"

"No, I don't," I soothed, heart fluttering at the feel of his touch on my hands. "We were both stupid, Myron, but that was in the past." I hesitated. "Myron, my father made me marry King Bacall. And I wish he had not."

The renegade cursed bitterly under his breath as he gathered me into his arms. I was weeping, unashamed, into his shirt, taking comfort in his smell and hold. "You do know we can't continue our affair, Eloryn. Not now. Bacall has spies, his walls most likely have ears – it would not be safe." He cursed bitterly, then looked into my face. "And has he consummated your..."

His question hung in the air, unfinished, but no more needed to be said. I was trembling as I answered. "No. He said he wanted to wait until we arrived back in Carsona, but it's been two days since then."

"I knew he was a fool, but not that much of a fool," Myron muttered, then suddenly he had my head held tenderly in his hands, his lips moving against mine. I flung my arms around his neck, kissing him back hungrily, desperately, and Myron soon gave in and returned my passion. When we finally came up for air, he finished what he had been trying to say. "If I were him, I wouldn't be able to wait."

"Tell me you're safe?"

"I am."

"Your brother has left you alone?"

"He has not, but I am safe."

"And...and Heldrida...?"

Myron grinned and pinched my cheek fondly. "She like a sister to me now, Elle. She did this you know – made us dream of one another. It was to make us happy."

I couldn't help but laugh bitterly. "I could only be happy with you, Myron, and I'm not! Are you going to stop dreaming of me? Now that..."

Myron shook his head. "I couldn't, not even if I wanted ---"

...My dream was shattered as the door to my chambers closed, and I heard someone walking towards my bed. I lay where I was, keeping the trembling of fear from my body, and slowly opened my eyes.It was Bacall, and he was staring at me.

"Your Majesty," I acknowledged, knowing that my tone was cold. You took me away from Myron! I wish I could kill you rather than look at you!

Bacall shed his dressing gown, revealing he was naked already. I looked at him with even, judgemental eyes, and felt bile rising to my throat. He was a fine figure of a man, his growth cushioned by the luxury of his life; a figure I would soon know intimately. It was one I knew I would never love. I forced myself not to shudder as the man slid into the bed besides me, feeling his eyes darken as he saw my figure was still concealed by my nightgown. I felt myself stiffen as he pulled at the ribbon of the clothing, wanting to get it away from my body – he was going to consummate our marriage! I'd have rather stayed with Myron, I thought bitterly, as I allowed him to remove the nightgown. I'd have to surrender myself to him, or else risk insulting him. That would most like spark a war between Carsona and Tirrius, and that was the last thing I needed to be blamed for!

What followed was awful. A wedding night was supposed to be special, I thought, passionate yet sweet: the consummation of a marriage by expressing love. Bacall knew only the physical side of love, and he treated me with all the brutality a soldier might treat a simple village wench he pulled to the ground while plundering her village. Unlike the girl, I had to bite back my screams, though my tears refused to stay at bay. His greedy hands bruised the pale skin of my breasts, stomach and legs, his teeth leaving great bleeding marks wherever and whenever he felt it necessary to do so. I tried to cling to him, if only to stop him from doing those things to me, but each time he would place one hand between my breasts and force me back down onto the velvet covers, shaking his head.

"You don't get to play," he told me through gasps, then fell back on top of me.

Myron! I bit my lip until blood welled there, clenching my hands into fists. Myron! I'm sorry! I love you, Myron! I love you!

It took Bacall more attempts to force his way into me than Myron had, cursing me angrily as he did so, apparently uninterested that I could hear every word he said. Myron had been gentle, loving, tender, showing me how sex was supposed to be. Bacall thudded into me as though he had more important things to do, and I was simply a distraction. His brute force ripped through me, making me scream out loud, begging him to stop. The man did not listen, snapping at me not to be stupid, before clamping his mouth down over mine to stop my words. I sobbed against his lips, terrified and in agony. Then Bacall stopped, slowly raising his head away from mine, and when I finally opened my eyes and blinked away my tears, I saw the livid look on his face and almost died.

"What," he snarled, "did you say?"

"Why would I say anything, my lord?" I whispered. How could I have said anything, more like!

The King's face didn't soften. "You said 'My...', and don't deny it! I heard you!"

Shit! I could scarcely believe myself! Myron! "I was only expressing my great desire for my lord," I said hurriedly, then reached up and stroked Bacall's burning face with soothing fingers. His eyes began to flutter close as my fingers worked back into his hair. "I was going to say 'my lord King', then compliment you on your fearsome passion." His eyes opened at that, and I smiled. "I never knew it was quite like this." And I hate it!

The King of Carsona scanned my face with his stern eyes, then suddenly rolled off me, freeing me. He got out of the bed, snaring his dressing gown and throwing it over his shoulders. "I have consummated our marriage enough." He turned and looked at me as he finished tying the sash, eyes gleaming with the memories of his time with me. "I have mistresses, Your Majesty, more than you have fingers on your hands. There have been...unwanted accidents in the past, so now I make sure they will not bear me children. That, my lady, will be your job, besides giving my country a pretty face for its queen."

I snorted. "So I am to be a prized doll that you drag out into society when you will? To crawl back to whenever you of your mistresses has a cold?"

Bacall stepped forwards, backhanding me with more force than Myron had ever used. "You will be whatever I say you shall be! And you shall not speak to me in that tone! As my queen, your soul purpose is to bear me children – heirs for my throne! I trust you can do that?"

I will bear a child in seven months time, but thank all gods it is not yours! "I can. My lord King," I added quickly, then sighed with relief as Bacall slammed his way out of my chambers. I buried my face in my hands, thinking quickly – wasn't there any way of getting Bacall to leave me alone? I needed freedom, not a prison!

My mind hurt with memories of my time with my new husband, and I slowly laid back down on the bed, biting my lip as I thought. I put one hand on my stomach, wincing as my finger touched a delicately bleeding bite to my naval – that man wasn't a king, he was a monster! He'd probably eat my child for breakfast as soon as look at it, if I didn't obey him! A sudden, overwhelming sense of protectiveness flared within me, and I clenched my free hand into a fist, ready for a non-existent fight.

"I'm going to protect you, my little one," I whispered to the growing child within me, keeping my voice down so low that even I nearly missed my words. "I hope Bacall didn't harm you."

It would be funny if my first-born is a male, I found myself thinking, smiling to myself. Just think: Carsona would one day be ruled by Myron's child, and not the mad King Bacall's son! Maybe it would cleanse the obvious insanity from that family line? Then I remembered Elan, the twisted leader of the Dark Knights, and cursed bitterly. "Face it, little one, you're going to have insanity in your blood, be it full true-blue or not!"

I wish your father were here. I don't want you to call Bacall 'Father'! I don't want him to have anything to do with you! But there's nothing that can help us now. Not even Myron could help us now.

There was to be no last minute rescue from my beloved, like when I had been close to my death at the teeth of Rhianna. At least I had a vague idea where Myron was. At least I knew for certain that he was still alive.

.:Seven Months Later:.

I felt like I was drowning in sweat. I lay on the birthing bed, feeling like every molecule of energy within my body had been sucked out of me and thrown to the dogs. It was the least I could do to try and block the excited whispers of the watchers in the room: Bacall, ministers, my husband's two sisters, a priest, several healers, a musician and, to my great annoyance, a man who kept claiming childbirth was a gift to women so there was no pain involved – we screamed merely for the attention.

I'll give you some attention in a minute! I thought angrily, but truly I didn't have strength to even open my eyes. I didn't even care that Bacall was even now flirting with one of my ladies in waiting, ignoring the midwife who was cleaning the wriggling, bawling creature in her arms. I'd given birth to my baby at last, and I suddenly started laughing – all these people had been summoned to my birthing room to witness the birth of their King's child, to make sure there was no exchange of baby after its birth, but no one but I knew that the exchange had happened before the marriage.

"Poor child's delirious," someone muttered. "Oh, but look! Here's the little Princess now!"

"You have a daughter, Your Majesty," the midwife told me gently, then helped position my arms so that I could see my child. "Congratulations."

I stared at her. Her eyes were scrunched as she cried, her little face pink with her wails. Bacall finally managed to tear his attention away from the servant, crossing to the bed to peer at the child in my arms as I cuddled her close, kissing her raven-black curls. I couldn't help myself, my laughter gave way to tears of joy. Bacall didn't even look remotely impressed.

"A girl. She's a bit big for a premature baby, is she not?"

"She's...she's perfect," I whispered, mesmerised. My husband grunted. "What is it, my lord? Does my daughter not please you?"

"If she was perfect," Bacall replied harshly, "she would have been born a boy. Girls can't inherit the throne in Carsona. We needed a Prince."

"You'll have your Prince, Your Majesty," I told him bluntly, then gasped. "Oh, by the gods! Her...her eyes!"

Bacall looked down and sighed. "They're blue. What of it?"

I hugged my daughter closely again, happier than I'd been for months. My daughter had her father's eyes! "I love her! Oh, Bacall, I love her so much!"

"Good," Bacall grunted. "Then you can name her." He turned to a guard, nodding to the window. "Well, I have a child, whether it be a disappointment or nay." The poor guard looked confused, and Bacall suddenly glared at him, as though he'd missed the punchline of the best joke ever invented by mankind. "The bells ought to be ringing, you imbecile!"

The man nodded vigorously and charged out of the room. Minutes later, bells began to chime, heralding the arrival of the county's new princess. I stroked my daughter's cheek, smiling as though I would never stop. "Maybe you won't rule, maybe you aren't the desired child, but you're perfect to me, my love!"

Bacall touched my shoulder. "What's the name to be, then?"

I frowned, hesitating. Ideally, I wanted Myron to name his daughter, but I couldn't tell Bacall that. Oh, do you mind if I just pop out of the country to ask a renegade member of the Dark Knights to name his child? Somehow, I didn't think that would go down too much of a treat. "May I have more time to think this over, my lord? Names are very important – we don't want her to be named just anything, do we?"

"Come up with something by the dawn bell in two days time, or else I'll name her myself." He paused then placed his lips against my cheek, as though for a kiss. His voice, silky soft and quiet, told me gently, "You'd best give me a son, next time, Eloryn. I need a son, not some daughter that I can only use for marriages. As soon as you are feeling better, we shall try again."

I smiled thinly as he backed away. "I look forward to it." I'd rather stab my own eyes out!

Bacall nodded and left the room. I looked at my child – Myron, I love you! – and swore to myself that I would call for him in my dreams. I would scream for Myron, begging him to come to me in our dream, and then I would tell him. He deserved to know what had happenedby now.

Myron snorted with laughter. "You're teasing me," he said bitterly. "That can't be true."

"She's yours, Myron," I insisted gently, then laid a hand on his arm. "I might have married the King of Carsona, but I bore your child. I thought you needed to know."

The man was very quiet for a moment, staring at me in horror. The scowl that appeared on his face made me falter. No! No, this isn't happening!

"Do you realise that I'm now going to have to live with the fact that I'm a father, yet I'll never see my daughter? I'm never going to see her grown, I'll never see hear her first words, I'll..." He swallowed, hard, eyes overflowing. "She's never going to call me 'Daddy'."

"You care more than Bacall does," I commented, feeling ashamed. How could I have been so selfish?

Myron grunted. "I told you he was like that. Eloryn, I want to see her."

I knew I couldn't stop him. "But you can't come to the palace. It's not like you can just knock on the gates and ask to see the Princess, can you? Gods, Myron, I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have come, I ---"

Myron smiled gently as he took my hand, eyes suddenly insistent. "I can take care of myself, and I don't need to ask permission to get into the palace. If you wake up and you still hold my hand, I can follow you out of the dream and to wherever you are. I want to see her, Eloryn. I'll gatecrash the first party your husband hosts if I have to, but I am going to see my daughter, one way or another."

"I just have to wake up?" I asked, looking at his hand in mine. "I'll do it."

Myron nodded, laying the fingers of his free hand on the pulse in my neck, eyes closing as he whispered strange words to me, and suddenly I was awake, staring into Myron's face. He was lying besides me in the bed, his eyes slowly opening. He released my hand and rolled out of the bed, turning to look at me. "Where is she, then?"

I nodded and slipped out from between the covers, snatching up my dressing gown and throwing it over my shoulders. I walked towards the secret door behind the tapestry depicting one of Bacall's ancestor's great battles, signalling for Myron to follow. "We can reach the night nursery this way."

The passage was quiet and deserted, and Myron's breath sounded frightened behind me. I could tell from the stiffness of his shoulders that he did not like being in the palace any more than I liked leading him through it, but there was no denying his desire to see the child. The night nursery was empty as well, the guard outside unaware that anyone had entered the room. I crossed quickly to the cradle, Myron following slowly behind me. He stepped up to the bars of the crib, holding his breath. His hands clutched the wooden sides, knuckles pallid. "She's...she's perfect!"

"I know. She has your hair, your eyes---"

"But your face," Myron said, then grinned at me. "May I bless her? What's her name?"

I blushed, shrugging my shoulders. "Bacall said I could choose, but I...I wanted you to name her, Myron."

His face lit up. "Really? You know I'd want to name her after you."

I fought back a laugh. "But that would seem too vain on my part!"

"Well, then what about...Myran?"

"Too obvious," I scolded, as Myron suddenly enfolded me into a tight hug, chuckling. "Myron, I don't want the guards to hear us."

I heard him click his tongue impatiently on the roof of his mouth as he thought, his eyes fixed on our child. Slowly, he released me, stepping forwards so that he could gather the baby into his arms. She mewled slightly as she woke, but Myron hushed her quickly. My heart clenched as father and daughter looked into each other's crystal blue eyes, and then I smiled as Myron kissed her forehead gently. "I'd like to call her Thalia."

"Tar-lee-ah," I whispered, trying to get my tongue round the name. "Then that is what she shall be called."

Myron nodded, laying a finger clumsily on the child's forehead. He was about to whisper a blessing, when he suddenly withdrew his hand, a small hiss of surprise issuing from his parted lips. "Eloryn! Heavens, she's...she is..."

Panic made me step forwards towards him, my eyes filled with concern. I wanted to take my daughter – Thalia – and hold her close to me. "What's wrong with her?" I demanded quietly. "Myron, what is it? What's wrong with our daughter?"

"She's...so...powerful." Myron sounded as though he couldn't quite believe his own words. "She's even more powerful than I am! Eloryn, do you realise how dangerous this makes her? If Thalia doesn't get the right magical schooling, she could... Her power could consume her. I'd hate to think what Bacall would do if he realised just how powerful Thalia is." His eyes darkened. "He could use her as a weapon, a brutal killing machine; with the right schooling and the wrong motives, she could wipe out the whole of the Dark Knights if she wanted to."

I couldn't except his words, staring at the tiny little thing in his arms. "But she's not even a child yet!"

"You have to look after her," Myron told me, then scowled. "I wish I could tutor her myself! I could help her understand her magic, but I'm---"

"Sir, I hear voices!" I heard someone shout outside.

Myron pushed Thalia into my arms, kissed her forehead once more, then looked at me. His mouth made no sound, but his pleading eyes said more to me than any words could have done. Protect her – she may be an adoptive Princess, an extraordinary little girl, but she will never be just a girl! She's too powerful for that!

The door to the night nursery burst open, and suddenly Thalia began to wail. The guards lowered their swords as they saw me with the baby in my arms, but there was no one else in the room. Thinking they had made a terrible misjudgement, the three men bent to the their knees, heads bowed in shame. "Forgive us, Majesty! We thought there was an intruder!"

"That's quite all right," I answered, forcing myself not to glance round – where had Myron gone? "I trust there have been no other causes for concern?"

"No, Ma'am. The little Princess has been left alone, save for the nursing lady and the nanny."

"Good." I tried to hush Thalia, but she would not be silenced. To my despair, the nanny was soon ushered into the room, and my child was plucked from my arms and soothed far more easily by this woman who I had never even laid eyes on before. I felt useless suddenly – I couldn't even calm my own baby.

Pirate - Cut her a break? Nooooooo! Thanks for the review!

martini the brave – Again thanks for the research! XD

Everyone else, hope you enjoyed too! Llamas, Ginger-Bizkit!