Chapter 22 - The Past Always Catches Up

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Media: All Of Me - John Legend

The sun shone brightly into the meeting room. The councilmen sat uncomfortably in their seat, squirming at the deafening silence. They waited with bated breaths, watching anxiously as their King, whose head was still buried in his palms looked up towards them emotionlessly, "And that's everything you have to for me today?". His voice was sullen, hoarse. The sense that he was angry and tired spread across the room and some of the councilmen began to fidget. The panicked councilmen looked around, waiting for someone to elaborate on something, anything. Nothing.

King Alaric sneered at his councilmen, looking very dissatisfied with what they had presented him with. "What about the rebels? What of them? No news today, again?" He slammed his palm on the table angrily, "What about you Old Forg? You always have something to add."

Old Forg bows his head slightly, "I'm afraid, sire-

Alaric waved his hand dismissively, "Forget it."

Alaric leaned back in his seat, regarding his fellow councilmen critically, "It seems, since the royal wedding, my councilmen have been slacking off their duties." Alaric growled under his breath, "How am I supposed to enjoy my honeymoon, when I can't trust my councilmen to run my kingdom in my absence?" Alaric raised a brow, "How am I supposed to sire an heir for the kingdom when I keep having to worry about rebels in my backyard, making their beds comfortably in corners that my councilmen cannot seem catch wind of?"

Alaric scoffed, picking up his wine goblet and taking a sip, "I suggest, councilmen, that you work harder to keep me away from this council room, or you won't be seeing any heirs for a while." With a wave of his hand, he abruptly ended the meeting, "Dismissed!".

The men in the room hurriedly bowed and exited the room as though there were fire on their heels. Alaric closed his eyes tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing deeply.

He could already sense a headache building. Sighing once more, Alaric's thoughts wandered to Carlen. His heart raced simply at the thought. How was his Carlen? His pale, sweet Carlen, who looked so sick in their last encounter. He wished so much to see him again, talk to him, touch him, apologize. His heart ached to even remember what he did. He loathed himself so much.

Soft, pale fingers ghosted over his skin as they travel from his shoulders and stopped at his chest. Alaric shuddered, leaning into the touch. "Sophia." He didn't know if he had the right to welcome a distraction like this right now. The guilt in his chest, ate away at his conscience. But he needed this.

"Bad day, my husband?" Her gentle, melodious voice rang out beside his ear in almost a whisper. He could sense what she was trying to do, and he allowed himself to be pulled into her pace. With Sophia, he always felt strangely compliant. As though he was tired of fighting, like he just wanted to have someone on his side, now that he has lost Carlen, and Lance. He lost the people he trusted, who trusted him. He needed just one person, the person who shared his bed, to be on his side.

Her fingers travelled to the buttons of his robes, expertly unbuttoning them while she planted a kiss on the side of his head. Alaric couldn't help the weak smile on his face, "You could say that." He has had many bad days, it seemed.

She pulled the first layer of his outer robes from his shoulders, placing them neatly on the back of his seat. She walked around the side of his seat to face him, "Well, are you done with your council duties today?" She ran her nails over his arms seductively, using one hand to drag her own gown off her shoulder, "We could spend some time together." Her red lips were tantalizing, her eyes determined as a cheeky smile graced her otherwise demure face.

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