Destined Path

Chapter Nineteen; To Kingdom Come

Walks settled me, or at least they used to. Nothing settled me anymore. Nothing would while I remained homeless. I didn't lose any possession. Not my castle. Not my crown. Not my people. Not my country. Nothing, but my home. How can you live fully when your home isn't a place, but a person? A friend. A lover. A wife. The very woman that claimed me. Leave it up to me to tarnish and ruin the good in my life. For days, weeks, months, I've been waiting. Waiting for a message, some sign. Something to give me hope. It has been just over three months, the seasons changed around me to warm while I felt frozen and immovable. Blocked from breathing fresh air whilst under the thick layers of hardened ice.

The cooing sounds of my son echoed as an afterthought in the back of my mind. My child. A child. One child. If I hadn't been so stupid and selfish, a second would have been well on its way to be here. My heart felt as empty as my wife's womb. A wife a sea away. Above everything, I just wished she was here. I ached to hold her. Breathe her. Touch her, make love to her. By the gods, I wanted to make love to her. Slowly. Passionately. Lovingly. Every single night since she left, I've dreamt about her, and every morning I wake expected a letter telling me to come to her. I prayed that the last time we were together that I was able to get her with child once more. Hoped more on the unrealistic fantasy that she never miscarried, just bleed for another reason.

That was ridiculous. I was being ridiculous. And childish. And a damn fool. She must have been glad to break from me, I had been a poor excuse of a husband. I deserved to suffer. The gods punish me justly. How they must jeer and mock from their place above, spitting down at me like the harsh rains during humid weathers. The smug prince turned king was now replaced. Without having the ethereal goddess that was my wife to impress, I let my hair grow to my shoulders and a beard that grew to resemble a rumpled goat's. Even the farmers and fish wives had to glance twice as I made my way up the hill into forestation. There was no elegant garments. No grand jewels. No crown. I kept my attire plain; incognito. A hooded black cloak masking a simple laying of a blue short sleeved tunic over a white shirt. My muddy boots tucked in warm woollen trousers. If Onyxia saw me now she'd tease me unthinkingly. And yet, next I see her I wouldn't change anything. I wanted her to see me sink so low. I wanted to grovel at her feet. Beg for forgiveness.

"My king?" I closed my eyes against Sarabii's voice, freezing where I stood. The tall, brown stallion by my side grunted with annoyance at the sudden cease of movement. I let go of the rains to let him wander about in the trees and grass. The months hadn't been kind to her too. The once vibrant browns of her thick mane had now the appeal of dull wood, heavy bags aged her face, and I finally saw the age gap between us. I refused to do what Nyx had asked me too, no matter how much I love my son. Nyx was- is- my wife. Not some woman tied to me by a drunk night and lust. When I had informed Sarabii of my decision she acted unnaturally defensive towards me, for the first time she raised her voice against me.

Now I knew where we were placed on each other's ladder. Now, due to her outraged confessions, I knew her thoughts weren't those of the soft-spoken, gentle woman I had known for years. No, she was vigorous... and tiring. "What is it?" I asked, dully. Risking a glance as my foolishly overdressed son. Nyx had dressed him like a Viking famer, Sarabii paraded him like a laughable jester. Not only that, his mother wasn't holding him properly at all, he dangle from her arms like a hangman. Stomping over, I almost snatched him from her arms instead of taking him gently. Rekker huddled into my embrace, tiny fists clutching at my clothes and beard. I kissed his head. "Shh, sonur minn. Faðir hefur þig, þú ert öruggur með mig. Ég vernda þig. Alltaf." Shh, my son. Father has you, you're safe with me. I'll protect you. Always. I whispered in his ear, pressing him to me.

I should have known that my quite hum would do nothing to settle him, I knew what he wanted. It was the same thing as I did. "Hvar er Nyx? Ég vil Nyx!" He pounded his tiny firsts at me, scowling fiercely. He hasn't stopped asking. Everytime I went to see him. I just shushed him, and told him the same thing I always did. That she's gone away for now, but she'll be back one way or another. "Ég vil ekki mömmu." I don't want mummy. Why? He didn't like spending time with her. He clutched my face, possessively holding my attention, my own eyes stared at me in a desperate need to communicate more than his young mind could offer. "Ert þú elskar mig, pabba?"