The forsaken Princess

13. The Fear of Truth

He caught himself wishing for things to go back to the way they were. He wanted her to speak to him, even if it meant that she was cussing him out. For some reason he wanted her to talk to him about stupid flowers and flightless birds. He wanted her to talk to him about the painting or see her face flush in embarrassment.

These thoughts wouldn't leave his mind as he made his way to the royal sleeping chamber to once again spend a silent night with the person he somehow felt like talking to the most at the moment.

Closing in on the entrance door of the sleeping chambers his ears pricked up as he heard coughing followed by gagging from behind the door. A flash a panic overcame him and he moved before thinking, slamming open the doors to the chamber. His eyes scanned the room for the Queen, widening as he saw her hunched over a vase, gagging and spitting on the floor next to the desks.

Archer turned to the knight standing guard by the door, "Are you deaf? Get the doctor!"

The guard nodded and began running off as fast as he could in his heavy armor.

Rushing over to her the King watched her small hands clasping the vase tightly, as she emptied her stomach into it. Archer knelt down next to her pulling her hair back into a ponytail, to avoid getting it wet.

With his other hand he stroked her back ever so gently. Violas breathing was heavy as she tried to keep it together.

"I don't feel so good," she mumbled, leaning back up. Archer pulled her into his chest holding her carefully.

"You don't look so good," he replied, mentally stressing out about when the doctor would arrive.

Viola shook under his touch as she tried leaning in closer. "I'm cold."

Tightening his embrace around his Queen he replied, "You're burning up."

Viola couldn't remember much of what happened next. All she knew was that she was carried into bed and she could hear the Kings and doctors voices, without being able to follow their conversation.

That night Archer couldn't sleep as the Queen rested next to him, whose body heat radiated through their shared bedsheets. He kept checking her breathing and holding her hand whenever she began tossing and turning during her fever dreams.

The next morning Viola awoke to voices whispering. She peeled her eyes open using the every bit of strength she could muster.

She looked around the room seeing Amelie and the King who both looked her way having noticed her awaking.

"Leave us," Archer ordered, so Amelie gave Viola a reassuring glance before doing as she was told. Archer made his way to her side, slid his arm under her shoulders, lifted her upper body up and put another pillow behind her back, before letting her lay back down. This made it so that Viola was now in a half seated position being able to better see her surroundings.

The King gently stroked the side of her face, looking deeply into her amber eyes. "You're still feverish."

Archer picked up a cup from her bedside table and carefully placed it on her lips for her to drink. While Viola took small sips the King patiently took his time not to rush her.

After putting back the cup Archer pulled the sheets to Violas shoulders, "Are you warm enough? The doctor said that you'll live to see another day, even though you've probably caught the Cold Cough."

Viola remembered back to when she lost her guard to the Cold Cough over night. It was also the day she'd met Archer for the first time. She imagined it to be a horrible disease but at the moment every inch of her body ached, her head spun and she felt so nauseated she would vomit if she even thought about food. The only thing she didn't understand was why the King was near her if she really did have the Cold Cough.

The Queen didn't have the strength to speak much so she nodded best she could. Archer slid his hand under the sheets and gently pulled out her hand, bringing it up to his mouth, giving it a small peck. So very small, yet so meaningful. "I was worried," he whispered under his breath.

The dark circles under the Kings eyes, paired with the look of worry was a side of the King Viola hadn't expected to ever see.

"Is... this a part... of your act?" Viola struggled speaking as her head pounded.

Without moving his head he lowered his gaze looking for the words he wanted to say. There was sadness in his eyes, Viola could see it. The King was tired physically and mentally.

"I can't really....tell anymore...," she went on. Not a cell in her body didn't burn and she wasn't even sure if she was dreaming or actually seeing the King. It all seemed so cloudy.

"It's not, it really isn't," he whispered finally.

"It would be an act if I wasn't here by your side. In truth," the Kings grip on her hand subconsciously tightened slightly, "I fear that getting any closer to you will become my downfall."

Viola wanted to ask what he meant. She wanted him to explain but she no longer found the strength to say anything.

After a moment Archer sighed deeply, "You should rest now. You can barely keep your eyes open."

Archer got up, and began walking away as Violas eyes kept falling shut.

"Your father," The King said while walking away, "would be proud of you for surviving me. I'm sure of it."

Viola didn't understand what he meant in that moment, but the ringing in her ears and the fact that she felt so weak that her eyes fell shut made the whole situation blur up her mind.