The Princess came to a halt outside the large, oak door that led to her quarters. She leaned against it, forehead touching the wood ever so slightly, biting down on her lip almost nervously. The steely demeanour she'd worn all day was now shed, leaving her true self: a woman deflated and defeated.
Annabelle breathed deeply, and pushed the door open.
"Darling," she walked towards the large bed. "Won't you come on a walk with me today?"
The taller woman already knew the answer, but the smallest part of her wished it would be different.
There was an extended silence. Annabelle took it as an opportunity to sit beside the lump of a woman hidden beneath the comforter. "Victoria," her voice was just above a whisper. "Please...Say something."
"Not today."
Frustration clawed its way up from the dark pit Anna had been keeping it locked away. "We can't keep doing this." She reached for Victoria's arm, gently rubbing the exposed skin. "I know it hurts; we are both hurting my love but you cannot continue to push me away."
There was more silence. The voice at the back of Annabelle's mind grew loud and teasing. It insisted that she'd been the one to blame for the events that transpired well over six months ago. She'd caused the death of her mother—of her unborn child, she was responsible for it all. It was all your fault, you ignorant twat. You should have killed him when you had the chance.
Burning behind the woman's eyes pulled her away from the thoughts that threatened to consume her alive. She would not cry, she'd cried enough. Annabelle pressed her lips against the younger woman's forehead, savoring the feel of her skin. "I'll be in the study. I love you Victoria." This time, she didn't wait for a response before leaving the room.
Over six months ago, on that day, Victoria had been rushed into the capable hands of the best maesters in the Capital. She'd lost so much blood that she passed out, and was carried in the arms of her wife to rescue. Annabelle paced the room as they worked on the younger woman; towels full of blood tossed aside and maesters screaming orders to their assistants. She couldn't die. Even the thought held so much uncertainty, as Annabelle also thought her mother couldn't die, but she did.
"Princess," the master's voice pulled her away from her thoughts. "We cannot save them both. And at only seven months, we're unsure of the child's future."
"It is not a question." Annabelle stared deeply into the man's eyes, her own fiercely glowing red. "You save my wife, you save Victoria."
Annabelle didn't know at the time of that decision that regardless of what they'd done in that room, she would be losing them both. When Victoria came to, she was simply a shell of her former self. Grief stricken, and filled with shock. Anna tried, through her own grief to pull her wife from the darkness that threatened to swallow the woman whole. She refused to eat, she spoke as little as humanly possible, and she did not leave their room.
The days following the death of the Queen was complete mayhem. The King was inconsolable, and Geoffrey more revolting than he'd ever been. The news had been a shock to all the land. The Queen should have been immortal after all, they all were; and so, hearing someone had murdered her was beyond the comprehension of many. Lockheed and his witches were in possession of something that could kill immortals within minutes and that is what truly triggered the war.
The Royal pack was readied, the vampires that served under the King were summoned and the war ensued. The witches expected them to retaliate, and did what they could in preparation—they'd assumed. A few of their men were lost, but all the witches were slain. A ferocious battle transpired between the King and Lockheed. Annabelle, along with the king's guard and Alpha stood aside, watching the brutal fight play out. Lockheed casted many spells and chanted incantations before relying on his own physical strengths, none of which saved his life. She watched as her father devoured the man, ripping him apart at the neck. A fitting end for the devil himself.
Celebrations were cut short by the realisation that one of Lockheed's curses did in fact work. The King was paralysed from the waist down by the following day. His squire came knocking at Annabelle's door, bringing the dreadful news. The princess was bereft, overwhelmed and mentally exhausted. As if losing her mother, and her child was not enough, she now had to deal with a King who was no longer fit to serve.
Annabelle knew what it meant. She'd hoped deep down that her brother would redeem himself, fall into the good graces of their father before he would abdicate the throne. But after having missed almost the entire war—the King wanted nothing to do with Geoffrey. That meant, she had no choice. There was no running now, Victoria was in no position to leave and Annabelle refused to leave without her. She had to ascend the throne, she had to be Queen.
----
Annabelle sunk into the large chair that the King had specially made for his study. She tugged the long, dark strands of her hair free from the silky cloth that held them in a high ponytail. How her life had gone from happy—ecstatic even, to beyond shit in a matter of months was incomprehensible. She felt a dull ache in her chest as she thought of her mother. You deserved so much more.
The door creaking open caused her to sit up straight in the seat. Her father sat in a wooden chair that had been upholstered with the finest fabrics and stuffed with feathers. The craftsman added makeshift wheels that made it easy for the squire to move the older man around—a wheeled chair of some sort.
"Take me to the window," his voice spoke. The squire who had been with him for over twenty-years now wordlessly pushed him towards the large Victorian window across the room before leaving. The two only saw each other a handful of times within the last couple of months, only partly due to Annabelle's new and exceedingly busy schedule and partly because the King refused to be seen by anyone other than his squire and maids.
"Father," she made a move to stand.
"Sit." He said, eyes unmoving from the window. "I hear you've been doing well in my steed." His voice was nothing of the man she'd grown up with. He sounded so frail and sickly.
"I'm doing my best."
"I know. And I'm assuming your brother has done nothing to assist you?"
"Why would he? You know how he feels about me taking the throne. It should have been him." She frowned.
"The only reason Geoffrey would have ever sat the throne would be to bring forth an heir, to continue the royal bloodline—and you and I both know you are more than capable of doing just that." His voice much sterner than it was moments ago. "I gave him a chance. I gave Geoffrey a chance, a sliver of power and he became drunk with it, a mad man—"
"You don't have to remind me. I was there."
"Well speak no more of it." He said with finality. "There's been talks of the witches starting up again."
This caught Annabelle's attention. "We killed them all."
"Apparently not. One of our wolves ventured through the woods on a run and saw three sisters practicing their...crafts, performing rituals."
"You're sure of this?"
"I have no reason to doubt him." Her father concluded. "You know what needs to be done?"
Annabelle nodded. "I'll instruct the guards to bring them forward, and they'll pay the price for indulging in prohibited acts." Her response was stoic, robotic even. As time passed the hybrid found herself feeling almost emotionless. It could be a coping mechanism, maybe the only way she stayed sane.
"Another thing," her father spoke before she could leave the study. "You must begin planning your coronation. Time is of the essence."
Annabelle raised a brow, "What does that mean?"
"This...sickness Lockheed has left me with is spreading. Affecting my organs, paralysing near ninety percent of my body." He gazed outside the window once more. "I'm no scientist, but it's only natural to believe the next steps would be death. And honestly, since losing Tessa, I welcome death with open arms."
The princess had no clue how to respond, and so she didn't.
The following weeks went by in a flash. The three witches were seized and sentenced to death, and Annabelle ascended the throne all a few days apart. Victoria did not make an appearance to either ceremony, but she did leave the room.
For the first time in months, Victoria wondered the hallways of Annabelle's quarters. Memories of what transpired flew through her mind with each step she took. Her hand instinctively rested on her tummy, feeling the emptiness there. Lockheed had taken everything from her, and she had no doubt that the rest of that prophesy would also come to past—that she would never bring forth an heir for her wife. That troubled her the most. It troubled her because she knew Annabelle well enough to know that the woman would never leave her side, not willingly—even if it meant the end of the Salvatore bloodline.
She stood at the door of the study, wondering how she'd even find the words. The door opened, and Annabelle stood on the other side, grey eyes wide open in surprise. "Darling, you're out of bed." She smiled. Her dark hair in the signature high ponytail that neatly nestled in the middle of the woman's back.
Annabelle opened the door wider, wrapping her arms around Victoria. The younger woman breathed her in, inhaling her scent deeply. She'd been so lost these past few months that she'd neglected the longing she felt for the hybrid—her wife.
"I'm sorry I missed your coronation." She said quietly as they entered the study. Her eyes never left the floor as she spoke.
"That doesn't matter. I'm just happy you're here." The newly crowned Queen held the woman's hand. "I've missed you so much... and you've missed a lot—"
"Before you continue, I wanted to have a chat."
The hybrid's brow raised, but motioned to the seat nonetheless.
"These past few months...I know I've been less than the partner you deserve Annabelle. But it hurt me, it shook my core losing our child."
"Victoria you are more important to me than you may even know. I'm just happy you're alive, that you're still here with me. It was so hard being in that room, watching you lay helpless, it was so hard. And it haunts me—everything that happened that day haunts me."
Victoria reached out for her, wrapping her arms around the woman's neck and kissing her in a way they hadn't kissed for a long time. The older woman sighed into the kiss, leaning in deeper.
"Thank you for being there, for being patient." They stood in silence for a while, just basking in each other's warmth. "What Lockheed said... his words mock me constantly." She broke the silence.
Anna stared at her confused.
"What if I can't give you another child Annabelle?" tears threatened to spill.
"Then we don't have any." She answered almost instantly.
"No! It's not fair to you, it's not fair to anyone. You know how important it is to your father that this bloodline of hybrids live on. It's just—"
"Victoria please." Annabelle's voice was stern. "Let's just take it one day at a time."
Decades had gone by. The King had long succumbed to his illness and was placed in a crypt alongside his wife.
Victoria's relationship with Annabelle was strained by not only the stress of Annabelle's additional responsibilities as Queen, but by Victoria's conscience gnawing at her that she was a ruined woman and her wife would never truly be happy with her. The younger woman took on additional responsibilities of leading the pack—it made her feel useful. No matter how many times they tried—although Annabelle insisted, they weren't 'trying'—Victoria did not get pregnant a second time.
She'd taken Annabelle by surprise one night by bringing a young woman from the pack into their bed, insisting that the two should be a little more sexually explorative. Deep down, Annabelle knew it was more than that. She knew Victoria subtly tried to have her bed other women in hopes that one of them would bear her a child.
Over time, this hammered a wedge between them, as Annabelle grew wary of the tactics and confronted her wife about it.
"If you want me to sleep with other women so badly, then I will!"
"I think you're being a bit dramatic Annabelle. You didn't seem to complain while fucking them all." Victoria noted, flashes of her wife's pleasure ridden face while deep inside another woman toyed with her mind.
"It's what you wanted, it's what you started. Now you're upset?"
Victoria did convince herself that it was all for the greater good. She'd convinced herself that she could handle the threesomes, and hopefully after a few times one of the girls would mother a child and that would be the end of it. None of that happened. It just birthed insecurities the younger woman didn't know existed in the back of her mind. She began to spend more time with the pack, leading, teaching, and less time at the castle.
The wedge grew deeper, until the people they were in the beginning of their relationship were just memories that no longer held much weight.
--
Ladies, and gentlewomen, we're finally up to date. This means all brand new chapters going forward. Thank you for allowing me the time and space to rewrite the previous chapters in a way that displayed the new vision i had for the book. More drama ahead, and hopefully, the ending we all want is on the horizon.
-Reese