Elinora the Great

3.

Henry

The Queen returned to the Grand Palace three days later. The two days that I'd spent conscious had been inside, with Oslo struggling to heal and look after me. I received a note written by Elinora herself to dine with her that evening, and deliberated for an entire day on my plan of action. As the very notable bruises on my face were still a gruesome purple, I ordered for Oslo to inform the Queen that I was feeling unwell, and not utter a single word on the brawl with Blaxton.

Just as I was cursing Alfred and myself due to the fact that I had had to decline the only offer of spending time together by Elinora, the doors to my suite burst open with a fuming Queen and a half-apologetic Oslo.

Elinora marched towards me with the gait of a warrior who looked prepared and able to destroy the world with a single flick of her hand, brown eyes flashing a fiery copper, every bit as dangerous as she was beautiful.

She approached the edge of my bed, reaching out and touching my bruises gently while I sat frozen in place. She took in my exposed and bandaged arm, and flicked her eyes back to my pale complexion. A strangely tender look crossed her face for the briefest of seconds, before her gaze hardened and she snapped, "Charlotte! Burke!"

A woman in her late-twenties shuffled in, followed by a portly man with a tuft of white hair on his otherwise bald head.

Elinora turned, "Charlotte, I want a list of names of everyone who was in the courtyard three morns ago, including the guards on duty."

Charlotte hesitated. "Majesty-"

"Oslo may assist you in your search. That is all."

"Yes ma'am"

The Queen waved a hand in dismissal, and Charlotte left.

"Burke. I want this to be recalled word for word."

"Aye, ma'am"

"Let it be decreed, that from this day forward, any harm to befall upon the Prince Consort..." Elinora twisted, amber eyes clashing with my green ones, as she uttered, "...will be seen as a direct attack to the Queen and the Crown, and is punishable...by death."

I was uncertain how long silence descended upon us, as a sense of shock and finality settled.

Burke stuttered. "My...my queen...I...Majesty...do not make hasty decisions, there may be-"

Elinora's eyes frosted with ice, and she spun to shoot a glare that I was glad to not be on the receiving end of. "Is there a problem, Sir Johnson?"

Some sort of understanding seemed to pass between them.

"No...no, Majesty."

"Good. Now leave."

Burke rushed out of the room.

Elinora turned towards Oslo. "Descend to the seventh floor, and at the end of the corridor of the East Wing, there will be a room which looks akin to a storage cupboard. Knock three times, and speak as thus: 'the nightingale requires her hummingbird.' Escort the gentlewoman, back here if you will. On your way out, call for the Captain of my Guard."

Oslo looked stupefied for a second, before quickly muttering his compliance and bowing out of the room.

Within seconds, a stocky man who must have been at least 180 pounds of muscle mass entered. The Captain paid me no heed, and it marked the first time someone at the palace, with the exception of Elinora, who did not stop to stare at me with either curiosity or hatred. It was refreshing, to say the least.

"Captain. Assign two of my personal guards to the Prince. And begin a drafting process amongst the Imperial soldiers."

The Captain simply nodded and exited the room.

Elinora finally turned back towards me, heaving a sigh. That indescribable...something...was back in her eyes, before she knelt on the bed before me, and took both of my hands in hers.

I do not think I breathed.

Finally, after a few seconds of simply looking at me, she murmured, "I am so very sorry for you wounds, both external...and internal."

I swallowed, the urge to speak overcoming my parched throat. "It's not any fault of your own...but...perhaps you should retract your orders. I do not wish to be seen as a weakness to the Crown."

At the mention of politics, Elinora was gone, replaced with the Queen. She rose from the bed, releasing my hands before turning towards the door once more.

"Worry not," her voice was laced with steel, "I have sworn to protect the Crown from threats both without...and within."

And with a flurry of her skirts, she left, once again.

...

I was interrupted from my moping by Oslo entering the room with a withered-looking woman who must've been in her senior years. She carried with her a rusty brown sac that appeared foreboding.

The woman set down her satchel on the bedside table, retrieving a bandage, a gauze, and a bottle of a brown ointment.

She worked silently and efficiently, disinfecting and then wrapping my cuts, only speaking once to tell me to hold a cold wad of fabric on my bruises.

When she was finally done, her grey eyes that were cloudy with age and wisdom regarded me in a beseeching manner. "She has been through much, Consort. Remember that not showing is not the same as not feeling." And before I could inquire about her cryptic message, the woman was gone.

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