A Gift Unto the King

Internal Struggles

Once the bronze cooking pan was thoroughly heated, Lucas set the meat in it, allowing the juices to flow into the pan before throwing in the chopped vegetables. The savory scent of the sizzling meat hit him in a way that made his mouth water. At the end of a long day, there was truly nothing better than a good meal. Luckily, it seemed he had found something to eat that wasn't eager to make a hasty exit.

When the steak reached the desired doneness, he scooped the food onto a plate, and dove in. Before he knew it, he'd reached the last bite, and found himself pleasantly full and satisfied. Taking a moment to pick his teeth, he shuffled the empty plate aside, before chugging a small cup of water to wash it all down.

Lucas rested his chin on his hand as he scanned over the interior of his small home. It wasn't much, but as a gift from the royal family, it was more than enough. It at least gave him a place to ride out his moon cycles without the unwelcomed interference of other people; and now, more than ever, he appreciated the privacy.

He still wasn't sold on the idea of being pregnant, though. Deep down, he just couldn't grasp it. It seemed no matter how many days had passed, Lucas was still somewhat in denial. Even amongst the bouts of illness, and oddly specific food cravings—that he did his best to ignore—it just didn't feel possible. There was always the possibility he wasn't pregnant at all, and it was all just some strange fluke. After all, there was hardly any real, solid, evidence of it. Lucas still wasn't sure which scenario would be truly preferable, but he had decided that whatever the outcome was, he would accept it.

The wooden chair grew uncomfortable beneath him, forcing him to vacate it. Giving his back a good stretch, he decided a hot bath would be in order. He lifted a heavy cauldron onto the hook over the fire, and filled it with a few buckets of water from his stores, and waited for it to boil. In the meantime, he went out the back door of his humble home, entering a rather modest garden space, bordered with a tall wooden fence. A medium sized, wooden tub sat amidst the slightly overgrown grass, with a few inches of rain water collected at the bottom. Lucas sifted out the drowned beetles, and went back inside to fetch the hot water. Deciding the cauldron would be too heavy to carry such a distance, he instead scooped the water back into the buckets, and transported it that way.

Steam billowed up from the tub as he carefully poured the water in. There was a slight chill to the night air, but it wasn't cold by any means. Once the tub was filled, Lucas tugged his shirt over his head and dropped it into the grass, before moving to unlace his pants. As he untied the lace, the opening revealed his bare, lower belly. With a flutter of nerves in his chest, he slowly pushed the waistband down over his hips to get a better look.

Nothing. He thought, lightly poking at his—still—flat belly. Sighing, he dropped his trousers to the ground and, after the water had cooled slightly, proceeded into the tub.

Nestling into the warm water, he tilted his head up towards the clear sky, gazing at the vast array of twinkling stars glittering brightly against the darkness. His muscles relaxed and he closed his eyes. Crickets chirped from beyond the fence as the gentle breeze rustled the leaves. The peace and quiet did well to calm his mind.

Unconsciously, he found his hands had drifted to his lower belly, his thumb slowly tracing back and forth over it. It was all so bizarre. He couldn't see it. He couldn't feel it. There was no physical evidence of anything growing within him, and he should've been grateful for that. Yet, some tiny part of him actually hoped it was there. Some foolish, delusional, irrational, part of him longed for it.

"How stupid." He snickered to himself as his eyes fell back to the stars.

Marion noted the vacant seat next to her at the high table that was reserved for her son. She'd hoped that at some point during the meal, he would have made an appearance, but now, the meal was done and the dishes were being cleared away. Once again, he'd missed a meal.

Grateful that Vin had decided against invading Honterra, she did her best to steer clear of him, lest she push him into changing his mind. Even so, she was growing concerned. She'd hardly seen him at all the past few weeks as he'd taken to spending his time locked away in solitude, which in itself, was very uncharacteristic of him.

Getting up from the table, she decided to pay her son a visit. At the very least, to ensure he hadn't been driving himself into poor health.

As suspected, she found him in the solar, sitting in a crimson upholstered chair, facing the little chess piece still firmly anchored to the map. Various lanterns and candelabras lit the room with a warm, golden glow. The candle light flickered across Vin's face, and Marion could tell his mind had long since drifted elsewhere.

"Vin?" She spoke softly.

No answer.

Approaching him, she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of his trance. He glanced up at her briefly, before returning his gaze to the table.

"I didn't hear you come in."

"I noticed." She giggled.

"Did you need something?" Vin's voice was flat and distant.

"Are you alright, dear?" She asked.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

The queen studied his features. The light on his face was dim, but she could see just how sunken he looked. His face was already thin, but it now seemed more gaunt, and his eyes carried heavy shadows. The carefree, boyish charm and positive nature he'd always held in his heart had faded, and she was now staring at a broken man.

"You missed dinner."

Vin didn't respond, instead just resting his head against his hand, mindlessly rubbing his temple with his middle finger.

"When was the last time you fed?"

Still no response.

"Dammit, Vincent! Would you just talk to me?" She knelt down in front of her son to meet his gaze, her eyes pleading.

"There's nothing to talk about." He finally replied, much to the queen's dismay. "I'll eat when I'm hungry, and I'll sleep when I'm tired. The daily habits of my life are my concern, not yours." His voice was still flat, but his words were sharp.

Sighing with defeat, and unwilling to push her son any further with another argument, she rose to her feet, and gently kissed the top of Vin's head.

"Don't push yourself too far, my darling. A weak king is of no use to his people." With that, she took one last look at her son, before exiting the room.