The Princess and the Bandit

Chapter 65

"Rise and shine, Hollie!"
I awake, yawning, and reach to my side, searching for the warm chest and powerful arms that will pull me in and caress me. I pat the quilt impatiently. Where is he? This wasn't one of his runs.
"Connor..." I mumble, not bothering to open my eyes. "Connor, stop being an ass and hold me!"
Suddenly the bed creaks and sags to one side, and then there's breath on my neck, wet lips absorbing my neck and ear, and a palm planting itself on my behind.
"Connor!" I swat him sleepily away. "Not while Matty's in here!"
More wetness around my neck and face. I squirm uncomfortably and hide under the blankets. I know he gets a little carried away sometimes, but since when has Connor licked me?
"Uh... Hollie?"
I sit bolt upright and swat the fuzzy dog away from my head.
"Get off! Perverted animal!" I mutter in a daze, and the beast whimpers and leaps off the bed. I blink around the room....
Where's Connor? Where's the friggin room? More importantly, where is Clockman?!
Then my memory readjusts... right. I'm in Prenner, Connor hates me... right. Joy.
Then my day brightens a whole lot when I look down and see the two faces I've missed the most since my marriage.
"Charlotte! Andrea!" I extend my arms and smile to them, and they rush forward to hug me. The baby kicks inside of me, and I know I've woken it, but at that moment, it feels almost like payback.
"Hollie! I've been waiting for you to visit forever!" Andrea grins, a pretty red-head with noble blood. "It hasn't been the same without you...!"
I smile at her and slip from bed, landing unsteadily on my feet. Their beaming faces seem to abruptly go dark at the sight of my swollen belly.
"Oh... well, I guess that puts cliff-diving out of the spectrum." Charlotte says numbly.
I place my hands around my womb protectively, looking down and smiling at it. The only part of Connor I have right now.
"I didn't... your mother, she didn't tell us...." Andrea begins, and I hold up my hand.
"Yes, well, I had to explain it to her several times, and still she seems to be having a hard time accepting it."
"I'm having a hard time accepting it." Charlotte grimaces, wispy blond hair and dark blue eyes, her family on the poorer side of the political boundary. "Hollie Barnersworth getting pregnant?"
"Yeah... so, I take it this Connor you were talking about must be the father?" Andrea implies with a wink.
I roll my eyes, then stop suddenly. "I only recall mentioning him when you woke me up...."
They exchange a knowing glance that makes my stomach sink.
"We've been here... a while." Charlotte confesses, her face reddening, which just reminds me painfully of Connor when he blushes.
"How long?" I demand.
"Oh, not too long..." Andrea shrugs vaguely. "An hour... or two...."
"You talked in your sleep."
I groan. "What did I say?"
"Oh... just... stuff...." Charlotte purses her lips and waves it off.
"You told him to take his shirt off." Andrea blurts. "Then you said you loved him. Then you started making out with your pillow-"
"Did not!"
"Indeed." Charlotte smirks. "And that wasn't the half of it."
"It got worse...."
"So it did."
"Do I even want to know your definition of worse?" I give the pair of them a withering look, and they giggle.
"You kept massaging the pillow and telling it to shave."
"You mentioned something about locking him in the dungeons."
I raise an eyebrow. "Well, that would make sense, actually."
"Wait, you have a dungeon?" Andrea says in awe, and I shrug.
"I've only been down there once, and that was because Connor accidentally locked himself in a cell."
"So he's not too bright, then?" Charlotte narrows her eyes at me. I almost laugh. Connor's probably as smart as a man could be, when he's not focused on food, me, or killing things with a sword. Which isn't often.
"Oh, no, he's an idiot." I assure them.
"A handsome idiot?" Andrea's lips curl in a smile. I actually snort at that. Handsome can't even describe him... he's so ridiculously gorgeous, I don't think there's a word for it.
"No, he's rather homely." I sigh. They narrow their eyes suspiciously, but make no comment. No need to make them jealous.
"So... what else did I, er, say?" I ask nonchalantly. What if I said something about the bandit and Connor? What then?
"Well...." Charlotte furrows her brow.
"You did tell him to stop being an ass...."
"And then you commented on how beautiful his eyes were...."
"But then it stopped being funny."
I frown at them. "What do you mean?"
"You, eh...." Andrea rolls her shoulders uncomfortably. "You were... you were almost sobbing, actually...."
"You told him he was stupid...."
"I do that a lot."
"But you said it was your fault, and he shouldn't have taken the blame... Hollie," Charlotte touches my shoulder gently. "You said he was... dead."
I feel my heart lurch, and my dream hits me full on... but only the later half.
Kneeling beside Connor's broken body, tears spattering from my face. His armor is stained with blood.
Holding his hand to my chest and weeping, whispering, willing him to blink those cold, staring eyes and live again.
"You said... you said he died because he was trying to... to protect you. You were mad because you said it wasn't his fault, and he shouldn't have taken the blame for what you did."
"What did I do?"
"You never said." They say ominously, together. Oh, boy.
I put the old maternity dress of my mother's back on, tripping over the ends because it's too long for my tiny frame. My mother spends the day making arrangements with the house of Barnersworth, so she can be with me until I give birth.
I try to help, because now I know about these types of political things, (even if I don't like them) which is something you can't avoid after being married to the prince for nigh on two years, but she insists that a pregnant woman ought not to stress herself, and that I should spend time with my friends. We leave in four days.
For the first two days, I ride around Prenner with Charlotte on one side and Andrea on the other, talking and chatting and gossiping as they tell me everything that's been going on in the tiny marshland kingdom while I've been off living it high in Clockman.
I meet Andrea's husband. A tall man, five years her elder and still with the gangly face and pimples of adolescence. She was married off to him not a week after I left to join with Connor, though she's a year younger than me. She already has a child.
I pity her, though. I watch as she brings us to their grand home and introduces us to her husband courteously. But I watch them, and there is no love. Recognition, acceptance. They glance at each other, nod, then go their separate ways. No love, just... existence.
Charlotte, however, being more of a peasant, was never promised to a man, nor will she ever be. She's simply biding her time, and enjoying all the possibilities (Read: Strapping farm boys) offered to a pretty girl of seventeen.
They're polar opposites in situations, truly. It's almost comical.
But where do I stand?
I realize I've been pretty lucky for the daughter of a duchess. I suddenly thank my mom in my thoughts for not wedding me until I was nearly fifteen, buying me as much time as she could. And then, for picking Connor. What are the chances that the person you're randomly promised to is also your perfect match?
The last couple days we're in Prenner, it's raining. A downright downpour, if I do say so myself. Thankfully, no thunder.
Connor isn't here to hold me.
To protect me.
Me, Charlotte, and Andrea are lounging in the small oak hall, where tall glass windows let sunlight stream down in dusty snow and red banners decorate the wooden panels on the walls, seated in a triangle on dining chairs and still talking. In fact, they haven't stopped jabbering once the entire time I've been here, except to drink and sleep, and then resume after a short break.
"So... when the baby comes, will you be caring for it, or hiring a wet-nurse?" Adrean asks. She brought tiny Cedric along with her, a tiny sleeping bundle of blankets, rocking gently in her lap.
"Oh, I'll take the responsibility." I assure her, resting my hands on my belly as I speak. "I created it... I'm going to take care of it."
"Well, technically, both you and Connor created it...."
"Oh, not this again!" I roll my eyes tiredly. They'd been infuriatingly curious about my elusive husband, pestering me with questions and never ceasing until I've leaked about our big 'fight'. "Connor... will be a father to my child. He'll be there, no doubt... but I can't imagine him taking a huge part in raising it. I mean... he cares, I think. Just... he doesn't work that way."
They exchange another glance. I've been getting used to that, lately.
"How does he work?"
"He...." I struggle for words. It's almost hard to talk about him, sacred, even, as if he's recently died and no one can mention his name or I'll burst into tears. It's been nearly five days, and we leave tomorrow... preparing took longer than expected. "He just... doesn't like to show the way he feels, is all."
"Evidently he showed something, hence you being all blown up." Charlotte nods at my womb, but Adrean rocks Cedric gently, shaking her head.
"Charlotte... having a baby has nothing to do with a love for it's father. It's practical, and it's what wives do. Yes?" She says sadly, looking at her child. I wonder what it would be like, having a child that you love, yet you know the person that helped you create it will never love you, and you're stuck with them for the rest of your life.
"Are we going to meet him anytime soon?" Charlotte changes the subject after an uncomfortable silence. I sigh.
"I'm beginning to worry just why you're so anxious to meet him."
"I just need to make sure that this man is good enough for our Hollie." She crosses her arms, and I can't help but chuckle.
Talking about him is painful, though. I needed the separation the first day. I felt empty, somehow, but cleansed, as I strode the halls alone or with family and friends at my side. No Connor. It was kind of nice not to have to worry about him for once....
But I missed him the next night, when I shut the door and turned around and was greeted by an empty room and a cold bed. Tossing and turning in bed all night, unable to sleep, because he wasn't there and I felt like I'd lost him, misplaced him. It was unnatural.
"Think you two will make up?" Charlotte continues, oblivious.
I shrug. "We'll have to... I mean, I'm having his child, right? He can't stay mad at me forever." Suddenly, as I think about it, I begin wondering if he will apologize to me first, or force me to make the move... it's kind of my fault for shouting those terrible things, isn't it? "Actually, he'll probably just be an ass and ignore me until I apologize, then he'll... eat some food, or something."
Charlotte wrinkles her nose at me. "Hollie, you make life in Clockman sound so bland."
"Because it is!" I insist for the umpteenth time. "Honestly, all I do is wander about the castle, taking notes and reprimanding servants, attend feasts and banquets and knighting's, and just... I'm a princess. And it's not as fun as it sounds."
"But you don't have any fun with Connor?" Andrea wiggles her eyebrows. They're so incredibly focused on my relationship... it's insane.
And the more they talk about him, the more I want to scream, because I feel like I've been broken away, like a marionette with it's strings cut. I've been cut off from my love.
"No, I don't have fun with Connor. He's a stick in the mud, and right now he hates me. And... please, stop talking about him." I bite my lip, afraid to come off too aggressive, but I can't stand the torture. What has he gotten himself into while I've been gone? Has he regressed back to his formal self, that uncaring, obnoxious man?
"Sounds like you miss him." Charlotte winks. I bury my face in my hands and groan.
"So... much...."
"There, there." I feel a hand patting my shoulder comfortingly. "You're going back in two days time, my lady. I'm sure he'll have completely forgotten about your argument by the time you return-"
"No," I raise my face and croak. "No, he doesn't forget things like that, not that easily. But enough about me-" I feel guilty focusing just on my problems. Self-centered and vain; which I am, of course, but I won't let anyone else know that. "Tell me about your man lives."
That should occupy them long enough to forget about me and my husband problems. Charlotte immediately leaps into a ten-minute long recitation of all her different choices, men she likes, men she doesn't like, men she pretends she doesn't like just because she does in the first place.
I'm almost thankful Mum saved me from all that.
Suddenly doubts cross my mind. Is Connor busying himself while I'm gone? Busying himself, I mean. But I dismiss the thought immediately. He... he wouldn't do that. I don't know why, but he wouldn't. He... he's an honorable man.
Right?
"-And then there's Jonathan, you know," Charlotte continues. I swear she hasn't stopped to breath, not once. "He's the big, muscly type, but he doesn't have so much in the way of brains. Oh, and let's not forget good old Ulfric, him and that gorgeous bronze hair of his. I like Ulfric, but I'm not going to tell him that, see, because everyone knows the way he is with women. That's why I've moved on to George, he's a sweetie, I don't like him at all but I'm just trying to get Fredrick jealous, see, and then there's-"
"Charlotte, alright!" Andrea finally loses it, flinging her hands into the air and shushing her. "We get it! You aren't owned yet- enjoy it while you can!"
Charlotte blushes, suddenly ashamed of boasting, and bows her head. "Sorry, I just... forgot you two were already married off. Seems like just yesterday we were all... maidens."
"It's alright, really, Charlotte-" I begin, because I can't bear seeing her looking so sheepish, but she stops me.
"No, no, you're right." She says quickly. "It's not fair to the both of you, boasting like that... teasing you, I suppose."
Andrea sighs. "Apologies, Charlotte. I didn't mean to sound like that. But it's just... never mind."
I look sharply at her. "Andrea- is Augustus good to you?"
She cringes slightly, squirming in her chair under my steady gaze. "Yes. I mean, good enough. Good as can be expected, yes? He's a young lord, Hollie, I can't ask for much better."
"Yes, I know he's good for you. That wasn't my question." I cross my arms over my swollen womb, the baby bouncing slightly inside me. "Is Augustus good to you?"
She bites her lip. "He's not bad, not really...."
Suddenly baby Cedric cries out, and she gently rocks him until his cries are subdued.
"Andrea- was the baby your choice?" I say slowly, and Charlotte watches in grim silence.
"I... it was his." Andrea whimpers, obsessively rocking her child.
I open my mouth and prepare to send out all of Clockman's army and military to tear the man's house down and lock him in the dungeons for the rest of his life, when she hastily continues.
"No! I mean, it wasn't like that!" She shakes her head quickly when she sees our expressions. "I mean... we sh-share a room, you know, tradition...."
I nod knowingly. I've had enough experience with that.
"And... we had been married roundabout a month, never talked much, though... and he came up to me, and told me.... He told me he wanted a child." She says simply. I stare in disbelief as she continues.
"I didn't argue. He owns me... and I can't disagree. Besides- Hollie, you'll know this better than anyone- I'm married to him to be his own, personal, baby factory. I'm like his machine- I make him children, he controls me. End of story."
She says this so fixedly, so dully, it almost kills me. Like she's already condemned herself to this life without hope.
"Andrea!" I say sharply, and she starts. "Don't speak that way!"
She looks confused. "What way?"
"You know very well what!" I nearly get out of my seat, but half-hearted movements are made more difficult when you have a small blimp taking up most of your midsection. "Is that really all you see yourself as An object, a tool, to be used at your husband's will? Because if you even see yourself like that, then your life is wasted. The Andrea I knew a year ago would never hold herself like that, but as an individual, with rights and dignity."
Silence.
Charlotte's jaw has dropped somewhat, and Andrea is looking pale and rather flustered. I bow my head and feel the color rushing to my cheeks. Not the first time I've forgotten that it's not Connor I'm talking to. They aren't going to take harsh words like a blunt blow, get back on their feet and shoot something back at me. My words burn her worse than I meant.
"I- I'm sorry...." I shake my head, and when I glance up her eyes are slightly red. But she doesn't cry.
"Hollie... I do not view myself in that way. But society does." Her voice doesn't waver.
"Really?" I raise an eyebrow. "Because I know for a fact that anyone in Clockman who ever talked down about me or called me a tool would be torn to pieces on sight by me or Connor or any respectable person in the kingdom."
She looks at me strangely, and Charlotte eyes me with a new look. Suddenly I wonder if I said anything strange.
"Well, Hollie... that's you. Not me." Andrea says softly. "You've always been the one who can stand up and tell anybody exactly what's on your mind... I can't do that."
"Yes, you can." I say stubbornly. "You walk up to this husband of your's, Augustus, and you tell him he doesn't control you, and if he ever thinks he can, tell him your friend knows a whole lot of men who are pretty handy with a sword."
She bites her lip, holding Cedric to her chest and shaking her head. "No, Hollie... this is what I'm meant to be-"
"Andrea, shut up!" I bellow, and she jumps, her hands trembling and face pale as I nearly shout at the top of my lungs. "You're a person! Just because you're a woman doesn't mean you don't deserve to be treated like property! You can think, you could fight- we have more purpose in life than just making freaking children!"
She cowers in her seat.
"Look, I'm pregnant here- I didn't want this either! Granted," I admit, "Connor didn't want a child, and this was just... an accident. But now I have to live with it- think I'm going to let everyone treat me like property now, just because I have a child? Connor doesn't own me, even if the papers say he does, and that's the reason we got in the fight in the first place-"
I stop myself, because suddenly the fight is swirling back around my head again. Andrea's watching me with a new, half-terrified, half-awed look in her eyes, and Cedric's tugging at her finger.
"Andrea... just don't live your life in fear." I finish weakly. There you go, Hollie. Way to get rid of one of your only friends in the world.
Andrea opens her mouth, is about to say something back- when the door abruptly opens, and there's a man framed in the doorway.
Glancing the figure out of the corner of my eye, my heart jumps at first. But then the shape solidifies, and I see the man is much, much taller than my Connor, and not as powerfully built, but rather more slender, with a swath of muddy brown hair thatched to his head.
"Andrea." His voice rings out through the hall, not as deep or commanding as Connor's. I just can't help myself preparing every man I meet to my husband, just to confirm Connor's perfection. Half-perfection.
"Augustus?" She replies, her voice sounding small and submissive, wavering on the quiet air.
"It's dark. You should be home by now."
"Sorry, I just lost track of the time." She says quickly. Her chair skids backwards and she hoists Cedric into her arms as she sorts out her skirts. Augustus waits silently by the door, watching his wife and child without even a flicker of love or emotion on his expressionless face.
"Good night, Charlotte. Hollie." Andrea nods in our directions, and I try to put as much meaning as possible into the fraction of a second her injured eyes meet my dark blue ones.
He glances down as she comes even with him, looking blankly at his son in her arms.
"You shouldn't be taking Cedric out in the cold like this."
"I need to nurse him." She replies, but she sounds apologetic.
"Nurse him at the house."
"I know, it was just a one time thing, and Hollie will have to return to Clockman in a few more days, and I just-"
"I said," He cuts her off. His voice contains a menacing undertone. "That you will nurse the baby at the house."
Andrea opens her mouth to argue, and my heart leaps in pride, but then she closes it and nods submissively.
"Yes, husband."
Augustus looks at her coldly, then glances in our direction, nods, and places his hand on the door handle to hold it open out of common courtesy. They slip through-
"Wait!" I can't stand it, and I call out behind them seconds before the door closes. Augustus props the door back open and watches coolly as Andrea pokes back in and glances at me worriedly, begging me not to say anything.
"Andrea... remember what I said." I choke out. She nods quickly, eager to escape her husband's prying eyes. I raise my eyes and glare at him.
"And you-" I point unmistakably at him, and his eyebrows widen in surprise. Not used to women speaking up to him. "You, punk, you'd better get your priorities sorted and treat this woman of your's with respect."
He blinks in disbelief, and then they're back in the room. "Excuse me... I don't think you realize who I am."
He snarls the last word, and I snarl with equal ferocity. "Oh, really? Well, you wanna play that card, bub, then you're gonna lose. You don't even want to know who I am."
He crosses his arms, unconvinced, running his tongue along his teeth beneath his thin lips, and I continue.
"You see that woman standing next to you? Holding your bloody child? Yeah, she's your bloody wife. So you'd better suck it up and start treating her with some respect, alright? Because she's so much better than you even deserve, you got lucky, and you should be grateful. She's more than you can ask for, and she's not your personal baby factory. She's a woman, but that doesn't mean she's not a person. She's my friend, and an amazing human being. And you need to treat her like that, and stop using her, acting like she's a naughty pet."
We glare at each other, but as we've found out before, not many people can win staring contests with me. I pour my venom into my eyes, and he flinches, quickly looking away, though his hands stubbornly remain on his hips.
"Or else?" He sneers at me, though his grin is shaken.
I smirk at him with menace glowering in my eyes. "I suppose you've heard of the knights of Clockman?"
He shrugs vaguely. "Might a' heard of 'em."
"Then you know of their famed torturing strategies?" I insist. "The ones where they pin a victim to a wall with a sword in every limb, then slice off each finger and toe, individually, into a bowl, pour it into a stew and force the victim to drink it, before scalding his entire body with boiling water, then crushing every last bone in his body with a wooden spiked club?"
The color drains from his face. "I... I suppose...." Men never want people to know they didn't know something. "But what does this have to do with them?"
"Well... what if I told you that they were some close friends of mine?" I smile evilly, vexing him as much as possible.
His eyes turn to circles in fear. He stammers. "Y-you're- you're b-bluffing...."
Of course I am. But would I ever admit that? Hell, no!
"Then I suppose I would also be bluffing if I were to mention that my husband was the, oh, I don't know... bloody prince of bloody Clockman!?"
A look of horror spreads across his face. While they might not know him by name, not one person in all the seven kingdoms hasn't heard of the lethal, driven, and powerful young prince of Clockman... and they're all terrified of what he could hold for the future.
"You-you- you're his Hollie?" He stammers. My expression turns to one of pure rage.
"NO! I'M NOT HIS! I'M NOT HIS BLOODY POSSESSION! DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND? NOBODY FREAKING OWNS ME!"
With that, I storm out of the room, hurtling down the hall, and slam my bedroom door behind me.
Oh, Connor.
Where are you when I need you?
But I don't need him, I think. I'm my own person. Connor doesn't complete me. Yes, he does. He's my other half. At least, I don't need him to function. I did that all right on my own way before he even came into my life.
I don't need Connor.
I want him.
I change for bed, because it's already late. I don't need food. I do, but I've been having cravings anyway, and roasted chicken makes me want to vomit. Which I just did anyway.
I lay on my back, staring contemplatively at the ceiling in the darkness. My hands are clasped over my protruding stomach, and I move my gaze to my womb. It's kind of almost sort of cute, I think, in a way. Just a random globe swelling from my middle.
The baby budges again, and I rub my belly. A child is in there. A child is inside of me, moving, kicking. 29 weeks tomorrow.
And yet, somehow, it's still hard to believe I'm actually pregnant.
Connor got me pregnant. It's impossible. Never once did I think, when I really saw him that first night, when I found out we had to share a room and he stormed in and flung himself on the bed and ignored me, never would I have guessed that he would someday father my child.
Willingly.
He wanted to do it. Maybe we didn't want a baby, but the desire to be closer, closer than ever, breaking the boundaries and getting as close as humanly possible... we wanted that. I wanted that, and he didn't complain.
So is it love?
Or only lust? I feel a shiver as I remember that night, so clearly it almost sickens me. Tossing in the bed, realizing with a shock he had inserted himself.
Did it hurt?
Yes. I remember my fingernails digging at his shoulder, gritting my teeth in pain. He claimed me that night, I realize. When Connor made love to me, he went where no other human being had been, a secret between two people, a bond deeper than a kiss, and one that couldn't be broken.
Then a child.
Yes, the warmth he made inside me was a child, apparently. Why does it have to grow in me, though? Why not him?
Are women always at a disadvantage? Then again, I don't have to constantly guard one extremely vulnerable area on my body that anyone could kick at any time to immobilize you for a few minutes in a coma of pain, so I suppose that makes it even.
Supposedly.
The baby wriggles again, and I practically expect my belly to move. I wonder for the first time what it will look like. It's father's blond hair and light eyes, or my dark hair and dark eyes? Pale skin? Tan? Freckles?
What will we name it?
I remember what Connor mentioned, about not officially naming the child until we know it will live long enough to safely become attached to it. But shouldn't we at least pick out a few names? And what if it's stillborn, or something else horrid happens? Shouldn't it have a name then?!
And what if it is stillborn?! What do we do? I hate myself for secretly hoping that might happen. Not for my own good, though. I can't take care of a baby. Any child of ours would have a much better chance at life if we waited a long, long time, and we were both much more mature, and not merely children ourselves.