I was really emotional while writing this, probably because it's been raining this whole week here where I live, and rain makes me depressed *sigh*
Songs that inspired the chapter: Winter Bird - AURORA, In And Out Of Love - Oh Wonder, Salvation - Gabrielle Aplin, everything i wanted - Billie Eilish, Everybody Wants To Rule The World - Lorde, Wildest Dreams - Taylor Swift.
Next chapter: April 29, 2020. For Patreon: April 24, 2020.
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Reyna woke up with a sharp numbing pain above the hip. The room faded into view. She saw the grey ceiling, the early pale light pouring through the window, then Harry. He said something, his lips moving, yet she couldn't hear a single word; the buzzing in her ears was too loud.
Had she died in her sleep? It was the only good explanation for why Harry was here. But from what she'd been told, the moment after you died should be painless. Right now her body was aching all over.
She lifted her head and saw that her dress was bunched up right below her breasts, her bottom private parts covered by a blanket. The bruises scattered all over her arms and torso had gone from red to blue. She was already too pale; now she looked like one of those lifeless paintings displayed in her father's reading chamber.
It was only then that she noticed her wound was now coated with this black slimy fluid, and she almost freaked out when Harry applied some more to it with his black slimy fingers.
"This will heal you faster. Trust me," he said with his other hand on her knee.
She almost said she would trust him even if he led her to a cliff and asked her to jump. She was so madly in love with this man, it made her feel stupid, especially in this situation.
"What is that?" she asked and propped her head up.
"Magic," he replied, his lips curved a little. "Those sisters in the woods cured my wounds with these herbs, so I stole some just in case. I almost forgot that I kept them under the saddle." Then the corners of his lips lowered. "I'm so sorry. I didn't think we'd need them for this...For you."
The remorseful look in his eyes led her to believe that he meant it. This Harry was not the one who'd bellowed at her yesterday and made her feel like the most worthless being in the world. This Harry seemed like her Harry. She then pushed the idea to the back of her mind, so she wouldn't grow too attached to it.
Once Harry finished, he cleaned his fingers with a rag that he kept on his lap, and turned away so she could cover herself. She smoothed down her dress, careful not to touch her wound and pushed herself up to sit with her back against the wall.
"Do you know who did this to you?" he asked.
Her gaze shifted from his face down to her wound. "My brother sent him."
"Why does your brother want to hurt you?"
"Everyone wants to hurt me," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.
He considered her for a moment.
"Last night..."
Her head shot up as soon as she heard the words. It was only then that she remembered why he was here. He'd been here all night. She'd had a nightmare about the man at the market, woken up in the middle of the night, seen Harry, and crawled onto his lap. She remembered crying so hard she couldn't speak. She remembered him holding her like he used to. Like he didn't hate her.
Her tears threatened to spill, and she had to inhale a shaky breath to hold them back. Harry's mouth clamped shut before he even started his sentence. Perhaps he noticed her previous reaction and concluded that she didn't want to talk about last night.
She truly didn't.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you," he said.
She averted her eyes, hands clasped on her stomach. "It's okay. I'm used to it." It sounded so pathetic when she whispered like that. "My brother and father used to yell at me all the time."
"That doesn't make it okay, Peach."
He called her Peach. He'd called her Peach last night, too. Not Your Highness, but that stupid name she'd grown to love more than her own.
"Did they always mistreat you?" he asked.
"My father called it tough love," she said with a sneer, shaking her head. "That was the only kind of love I knew after I'd lost my mother."
"There's no such thing as tough love. Either you love someone or you don't." After a moment's silence, he carried on, "What would you do when you return to the castle?"
She wondered why he suddenly took an interest in her life. If they were still acting normal toward each other, she would attempt to joke about it. Yesterday you hated me. Today you care. What's that all about, Harry?
"Hug my uncle," she answered. "Take a walk in the rose garden. Eat all the food I want. Put on one of those pretty dresses that I can't breathe in." A small grin tugged at her lips. "Attend a ball and dance barefoot while all the guests stared and silently judged."
He let out a laugh so short she wasn't sure if her mind had made it up.
"I've attended the King's party once," he said.
She immediately turned back to him. "You have?"
"Not as an official guest, of course." He laughed. "That was after I'd met you by the river. I was in the castle to help Kenny's mother, who was one of the cooks for the party. Then Kenny and I snuck into the dining hall to observe the members of the gentry. I saw your father, mother, and brother. But you weren't there."
"My father ordered to have me confined in a tower."
"Because you almost drowned?" Harry sounded aghast, or angry; she couldn't tell.
"Because I misbehaved."
Now that she thought of it, she realised she couldn't be royalty or even a nobody. She'd been somewhere in between her whole life. There was really no place for her in this world.
"I'm sorry I got in the way," she said. "If it weren't for me, you and Kenny would have been free by now."
When he sighed, she took a gander at him. He looked nervous and couldn't stop twisting the rag on his lap. "I'm not going anywhere with Kenny," he said. "I wouldn't even if you hadn't got hurt."
"Why not?" she asked, almost expectant.
"I said that to anger you," he admitted to his hands. "Or at least I hoped it would anger you. But I regretted it immediately. I was a coward; I couldn't handle the truth."
"What are you saying, Harry?" she asked in a tone more urgent than the beating of her heart.
Before he could answer, the door swung open and Gemma barged right in. "They're looking for her," she said between short rapid breaths, then pointed a finger at Reyna. "You're...you're Reyna Callisto..."
Every time Reyna thought she couldn't be more ashamed of her name, someone would say it with insurmountable disgust, or fear.
This time, she hoped it was disgust.
"We can't turn her in, Gem," Harry told his sister, who was shaking like a ghost. Eyes still broad with panic, she looked at Reyna like she could see right through her.
"They're coming for her. They'll kill us if–"
"My brother can't arrest me." Reyna tried to sound as positive as she could, but her voice was shaky. "A king's power is void outside his kingdom. We're all safe here."
Gemma kept shaking her head like she wanted to get it off her neck. "It's not your brother," she uttered. "It's...our Queen."
"Calanthe?"
Reyna had never met Calanthe. She'd only heard of her. The ladies in court had exchanged so many tales about what Reyna's father had done to Calanthe's family. She didn't know which of those stories were true, or if any of them was true, but she knew Calanthe had been married to Uncle Edgar because it'd been the only way for her to remain royalty. Reyna's father had felt deeply insulted when her uncle decided to wed an illegitimate princess, who was also the daughter of an enemy.
"Is my uncle looking for me?" Reyna asked. Hope grew inside of her, only to burst like bubbles when Gemma's expression turned grey.
"The King is...dead, Your Highness. He was murdered last night..."
The rest of what Gemma said remained unheard as the floor and ceiling started spinning out of control. The beating of her own pulse was all Reyna could apprehend before an inhuman scream tore through her body, and she collapsed like she'd been shot by ten arrows at once.
She screamed and screamed as Harry folded her into his arms and clutched her like she might disintegrate across the floor. She reached for her own dagger, but his hand found hers first and pinned it to his chest, squeezing them as tight as he could until she caved in.
She cried and cried. She couldn't stop...
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Harry thought it was impossible to truly feel another's pain, but Reyna's scream had come so close. She'd screamed with her whole body, eyes wide with horror, mouth rigid and open as her nails dug deep into her own arms. By the time she'd lost her voice and could only weep quietly against his chest, she'd been covered with bruises, some blue, some red that she'd caused herself.
She still looked troubled after she'd passed out from exhaustion. It was like even in unconsciousness, she knew she'd lost everything she'd held dear. Her uncle had been her only purpose. Now Harry feared there was no reason left for her to go on.
The thought had crossed her mind, he knew it. Her second instinct had been to reach for the dagger she'd always carried on her hip, only to remember she'd been unarmed. She hadn't been in her right mind to choose death, but she'd thought of it. She could have ended her life right in front of him.
Harry had no idea how he'd drifted off, but in his dream, he saw Reyna waving him goodbye before disappearing into a veil of black smoke. He jerked awake, sweating and gasping for air only to find himself alone in the dark.
He pushed himself up and sprinted out of the pantry like he was on fire. He ran into Gemma outside the house; she was carrying two buckets of water in both hands. He asked her if she'd seen Reyna, and his sister blanched when she replied, "She just took the black horse and headed to the river."
Curses spurted out of Harry's mouth as he broke into a run to the stable and took Lightning out. He rode on the mare's back through the city, galloping across the hills to Vidarr River, to where they'd first met. He hoped she was still there, and it wasn't too late.
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At the riverbank. Dusk was falling. Reyna had lost track of time since she and Thunder had got here. In only a nightgown and a black coat, she sat as still as a rock by the water, legs crossed, chin on her knuckles. She was gazing thoughtfully at her reflection in the river when the galloping of a horse intruded the serenity of the forest. Her reflection blurred. She shot her head up and saw Harry arriving on Lightning.
He unmounted the horse, strode straight toward her, and before she could say a word, he swept her into his arms. He was panting, chest rising and falling without rhythm. Then, she heard a sniffle.
He was crying.
"Did something...did something happen?" she faltered. If something had happened to his family while she was here–
"I thought you'd done something stupid, Peach," he croaked into her hair while holding her like she was his only possession.
She pushed away with her fists against his chest, lifted her chin, and took in the sight of his unbearable frown. Tears on his cheeks sparkled in the dusk-tinted light, while his green eyes were as clear and dark as the night river.
"I'm sorry," she murmured as she brought a hand to his face and wiped his eyes. "I'm sorry I scared you."
"Why did you leave the house?"
"I told Gemma I needed some fresh air..." She looked down, her hands returned to her sides and tightened into fists to resist touching him again. "Don't worry. Nobody saw me."
She felt his fingers in her unruly hair. He combed them through her soft curls and rested his palm at the nape of her neck. Then he lowered his head, guardedly, leaning closer, his warm breath fanning her burning face.
She almost tiptoed and met his lips halfway to forget about everything else for just a short-lived moment. But the voices in her head didn't allow her to do it. She drew back, arms secured around herself. His hand, which had previously touched her hair, halted midair as he didn't know what to do next.
"I have to go."
"What do you mean?" He sounded scared. "Go where?"
"To the castle. To see Calanthe."
"Peach..."
"There's a monetary reward tied to me. If you bring me to her–"
"Fuck! Would you stop that?" he snapped and shoved his hands in his tangled long locks, turning away. She touched his shoulder. He brushed her off. She touched him again, this time fisting his shirt and forcing him to face her.
"You have to trust me, Harry," she said calmly despite herself.
He shot her an agonising glare. "I don't want money. I want you. I want you to be safe. I want you h-here. With me. Where I'll keep you safe."
"It's not that easy." She could barely hear herself.
"It is! Listen." He caught her hands and brought them to his chest, his eyes desperate and hopeful at the same time. "We'll run far away from here where no one can find us. Let's go West, or East, cross the ocean; I don't care. I just want to be with you so I can protect you."
He was saying everything he'd said to her in her dreams. Those were everything she'd wanted to hear. The only thing missing was those three words, which she prayed he wouldn't blurt out at this moment.
Sometimes the things we wanted were the things we couldn't have. And it'd be selfish to take them knowing you didn't deserve them.
"I would never be safe if I kept on running," she whispered, not sure if that was to herself or to him.
"Calanthe will kill you, Peach."
"She can't kill me. She's not allowed. Not when I'm still the Princess of Isolde and she doesn't have proof that I killed my uncle, because I didn't."
Harry stalled for a moment before he said, "It's Egon..."
She gave an assertive nod, her lower lip trembling. "I don't know how he'd done it, but I know it was him, and Calanthe is falling right into his trap. She wants to use me as a bait to start a war with the North, which is exactly what Egon wants. He's killed our uncle and he'll kill her, too, because she knows nothing of politics and therefore is incapable of ruling a kingdom on her own. The people and alliances of Theros were already against my uncle's marriage to her; if she takes me as her prisoner without any proof of my crimes, the other kingdoms will turn against Theros and support Egon in the war."
She halted to suck in a breath, her entire body shaking.
"Let me come with you then," Harry broke the silence.
"I c-can't." She shook her head, her heart beating louder and faster. "I can only guarantee my own safety. They'll kill you. I can't let them kill you..."
As she burst into tears, he held her face and inclined his head. She thought he would kiss her, but he didn't; he kept their foreheads together, his eyes squeezed shut like he was in pain.
"I can't let them kill you," he growled. "I don't trust anyone. Not Calanthe. Certainly not your brother."
"Egon doesn't want to kill me; he just wants me to come back. And I don't know why. I honestly don't know why he can't let me go, but I have to take responsibility for what I've done. I have to surrender."
There was a moment when neither of them moved or made a sound, and all she could hear was the rustling of leaves and sighing of water. She wished time would stop, and they'd be here, like this, forever.
"Peach," Harry's voice brought her back to reality. "I have to tell you something."
She hid her nervousness with a straight face while her pulse began to flutter. "What is it?"
"That night, at the King's party–" her chest expanded with relief even though she was half-disappointed; those weren't the words she'd expected to hear "–there was a lady who arrived in the middle of dinner. She was one of the royal guests. Beautiful, white-haired, dressed in all black, a shiny smile..."
"Did she have a gold tooth?"
"I think so...Have you met her?"
"Right after I met you." Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "She called me Princess, or...Your Highness. I don't remember if she said anything else, but she knew who I was. I was so scared, so I ran."
"She was a witch."
"A witch?"
How come no one had told her about this witch? Not even her uncle who had invited the witch to his own party?
Harry went on despite her puzzlement. "Your father didn't believe in magic. So the witch offered to tell the fate of his kingdom by reading Egon's palm. She said Egon becoming King would endanger the people of Isolde." Hesitation ensued. "And..."
"And what?"
He brushed his thumb across her cheek, his eyes dimmed like he was looking at something he wholeheartedly desired but could never possess.
"You're the saviour in the prophecy, Peach."
It took her a moment to let that sink in, and when it did, she started shaking her head. "No, no, no, that can't be true. I'm not....I-I can't!"
She couldn't be the saviour. She couldn't even save herself. Everyone around her died, either for her or because of her. If there was a word for someone who brought death upon people without intending to hurt anyone, she would be that word.
She glanced back up at Harry's face, hoping he'd agree with the voices in her head and tell her she wasn't the saviour, just a naive girl who caused trouble everywhere she went to whomever she met.
She wasn't the saviour.
The corner of his mouth turned up and dropped so fast she almost didn't notice. "Egon's afraid of you. He can't kill you because he doesn't know what would happen to his kingdom if he killed the hero in the prophecy. That's why he wants to keep you in his castle to make sure you don't turn against him and take the throne."
The idea of her being the saviour was preposterous enough, she could not dare to imagine herself as...
The Queen.
She stepped back, stopping just before she fell into the water. She couldn't feel her toes, couldn't even look him in the eye. Was the ground beneath her feet shifting or was it her who was shaking?
This wasn't as simple as submitting herself to Calanthe and talking the poor woman out of another meaningless war. If the prophecy was true, Egon would be the death of Isolde. She had to take power back from him. But how? She couldn't even take a sword from his hand.
"Saviour or not, I have to do something," she said almost to herself. "I can't run away forever."
Before he could speak, she had turned and strode back to her horse. She mounted Thunder and looked down at Harry; his mouth was agape like he wanted to say a lot more.
"I'll meet you at the house," she told him, kicked the horse, and rode away.
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Reyna tramped around the pantry to collect all the things that belonged to hers – her sword, her coat, the clothes she'd worn when she arrived, and her gloves – while he watched anguishedly from the doorway. She cleaned the entire place until there was no sign that she'd been here.
As she stopped to survey the room to make sure she left nothing behind, he couldn't help the thought that when she walked out this door, she'd disappear from his life like a ghost. Just thinking about it made him feel like his heart had been ripped out.
"Will your wound be alright?" he asked, despairingly needing a reason to keep her around.
"It's gotten better," she said with a reassuring smile. He knew she wasn't lying because those herbs were indeed magical.
Selfishness rumbled in his chest. He wished he'd never cured her. Her wound would heal eventually, with or without the herbs, but if she left to be the saviour she was destined to be, she might be killed, or worse, live and continue to endure her brother's abuse.
He opened his mouth as she bent down to pick up a few coins on the floor, yet stopped himself before he could beg her not to go. He could have vowed to be her humble servant for the rest of his life, as long as she ran away with him and let him take care of her. But that wasn't what she wanted. Her destiny was bigger than him, than her, than both of them. If she succeeded, she would take the throne. She'd have all the humble servants she wished for, and marry a king.
"All right. I've got everything I need." She turned back to him with a tight smile while fidgeting with the fur on her coat draped over one arm. She must expect him to move out of the way so she could leave, but he remained standing at the door, like a royal guard refusing to take her order.
"If you really want to leave, I cannot stop you," he blurted before he could help himself. "But please answer one question."
"Harry," she stressed his name as if to beg him not to speak. He didn't care. They would never cross paths again, so this might be his only chance to ask.
He raised a finger and swallowed in an attempt to wet the dry patch in his throat. "One question. Then I'll let you go."
She regarded him with contemplative eyes. "What is it?"
He pushed his tongue into his cheek, staring at everything in the room but her, while she waited, arms folded over her chest.
"From the moment we met until now," he said. "Was there anything real?"
He watched her expression soften as she thinned her lips and inspected his face. She looked baffled yet sorrowful.
"Because it was all real for me," he appended, his throat closing in. "I'm...pathetically...in love with you."
She froze, her eyes too large for her face. It was the same look she'd given him when she woke up last night and saw him. He wondered what it meant. Did she not want to hear those words? Did she hate them? Did she not care?
"Does this mean no?" he trembled.
She still said nothing.
With two long strides, she closed the distance between them, dropped her coat to their feet and cupped his face with both hands. Her delicate touch made him feel so precarious, like he might crumble if she let go. He brought his hands up and placed them over hers. He peered at her face; she looked breathtakingly beautiful when she cried.
"We were the only thing that was real," she said to him.
He didn't know he was crying, too, until he felt hot tears running down his cheeks. He dropped his head as she arched her neck, meeting his lips halfway for a fiery kiss that got his head spinning.
Fire in the pit of his stomach. Fire everywhere. Intense heat spread all over his body as he tore his shirt over his head, unbuckled his leather belt, and pushed down his trousers. Once he focused on her again, she had discarded her nightgown and was standing bare and flustered in front of him.
He swept his eyes down the curves of her body. His body reacted strongly to the sight. Candlelight danced across her skin, giving it the warm glow that was never there. With all the scars, bruises, and the bandage above her left hip, she was still God's most beautiful creation.
He was too distracted to notice how long he'd been gawking at her with his cock standing shamelessly at attention. Only when she crossed her arms over her chest to hide her nakedness did he flinch back to reality.
He took a step forward, holding her nervous gaze as he placed his left hand on her hip, the other on her neck, before trailing two fingers down to her collarbone, the valley of her breasts, her stomach...
Goosebumps rose on her skin as she gasped and shuddered. She swept his hair back, fisting it tight as he slipped a finger into her heat. He worked his finger in and out of her, their mouths reattached, his tongue caressing hers as he swallowed all the sounds she made. He was unconsciously rutting his swollen cock against her stomach. He felt her cold hands making their way down his back, to his chest, his abs, his biceps, his buttocks. Pleasure fanned the flames inside of him into bigger and bigger ones.
A groan got stuck in his throat when her fingers found his cock. Before he could stop her, she was on her knees, staring up at him through her thick lashes, puppy dog eyes making his cock twitch embarrassingly. He dropped down on his knees as well and touched her face.
"You don't have to," he said, kissing her neck.
"I know," she told him and shoved him to the mattress. He lay on his back, head propped up as she crawled on top of him. He panted when she put her mouth on his nipple and licked, eyes locked with his as she did the same to the other one. His stomach clenched when she kissed it.
Her fingers closed around his needy cock again as her mouth reached his groin, leaving sloppy kisses until she sucked the head of his cock into her mouth. His hips bucked, causing her to stop. She looked scared. She thought she'd done something wrong.
It was in that moment that he remembered she'd never done this before. He sat up, back against the wall as she scooted closer so he could pet her hair.
"Did I do something wrong?" she shyly asked.
"No, you took me by surprise, that's all," he murmured with a lazy grin.
"May I...continue?" she pleaded, her lashes fluttering. "Please let me try. I know how."
Right. She'd been taught to please a man...
His muscles stiffened as he ground his jaw. She would do this with someone else, most likely because she was forced to. Someone else – a king or a prince – would be in Harry's place and touch her like he had. He shoved the thoughts to the back of his mind, grabbed her face, and kissed her deeply, for a moment, forgetting that he must breathe.
She broke away from him, catching her breath and reaching for his cock again. She considered his face before licking up the shaft of his cock, around the head, and sucking the tip into her mouth. He was out of breath, his hands spasming. She was messy and clumsy, but he guessed she was too dazed to care if she was doing it wrong. She wasn't. She was perfect.
Delirious and aroused, he watched her take a little more, stopping when he hit the back of her throat, easing off and building up a rhythm. The way she held him in her mouth sent a wave of irrational jealousy through him. His hand moved to her hair and brushed it back as she bobbed up and down.
He left his hand on the back of her head and started thrusting gently, unable to stop himself. He couldn't look away from the way his cock disappeared in and out of her mouth. She put her hand on his thigh but didn't tell him to stop.
He was so close. When his stomach clenched and his thighs started to shake, he dragged her up to kiss her. She made a small, startled sound before kissing back, her hot tongue sliding over his. He moaned and kissed her harder.
In the next moment, he lay her on her back and hindered as he caught his breath, his eyes boring into her. Her heart-shaped lips parted, wet, full and sensual, the look in her eyes drowsy yet lustful, her breasts were full and round. This felt surreal. Almost like a dream. If this were a dream, he wished he'd never wake up and they'd never have to leave this room or each other.
He reached out and cupped one of her breasts. Her nipple hardened under his touch, and he couldn't help but duck down and take it in his mouth. The way she whispered his name made his cock throb with the need to come.
He thrust against her thigh and turned his attention to her other breast. He dragged his teeth lightly, enjoying the way her stomach trembled under his lips. He then spread her legs to find her wet and heavy with the scent of arousal. She released a startled gasp when he kissed her clit.
"Please," she murmured, her voice weak. "I need you."
He growled like a hungry wolf at her words and got his mouth fully on her cunt. Her legs sprung up in surprise, and he held them open like he'd done the first night they'd been together, draping one over his shoulder. It wasn't the first time he'd done this. He knew he was good at it, but he couldn't help but feel anxious. This might be the last time he got to make her feel good, so he didn't want her to regret anything.
He held her open with his fingers and gave long and slow licks that made her squirm beneath him. He sucked at her clit until she was gasping for air. She was slick and hot under his tongue; the taste of her made him grind his dick into the mattress. When her hand clenched handfuls of his hair and tugged him this way and that, he wasn't sure if she was aware of it, but he loved when she gained control. He moaned around her clit, feeling his cock growing harder than before, which he didn't think was possible.
He pulled back to suck two fingers into his mouth, and she mindlessly pulled at his hair to get his mouth back where it belonged. He smoothed a palm across her thigh to calm her as he thumbed over her clit before sliding two his fingers back inside her.
"Ah," she cried out, spreading her legs more, the grip on his hair staggering.
Harry smirked up at her in pride. He couldn't help the selfish thought of making her feel so good she could never feel the same with another man. He shook off that thought immediately, not wanting to imagine her breathless, naked, and spread open for someone else other than him.
He decided to overlook his worries and focus on her. He drew his fingers in and out while kissing her hip, her thigh, her stomach. It only took a few more soft laps of his tongue when he got his mouth back on her for her to come.
She was blushing and breathing heavily when he crawled back up and captured her lips with his own. She moaned into his mouth at her own taste.
"Was that okay?" he asked quietly.
She huffed, nodding fast. "That was...perfect."
Harry kissed her warm cheek, grinning. His entire body was burning at this point. The fever of desire made his head spin while his cock ached and twitched against her thigh. He hovered above her between her parted legs, propping himself up, an elbow on either side of her head. He reached between them, and his jaw dropped as he bumped his cock and dragged it on her soft inner thigh before nudging the tip against her cunt. They both made a sound at it.
"Please. Want you," she said, running her hands up and down his arms. Her eyes pinched closed, her head thrown back.
Harry pushed her thighs further apart and took himself in his hand, angling his cock to press the head into her cunt, pushing in with steady pressure. They both moaned. He dropped his head to her shoulder, elbows locking from the effort of not collapsing. He would bang his head against the wall if he crashed onto her wounded body and hurt her in any way.
"Am I hurting you?" he asked, his voice strained as he tried to control himself. She was tight, so goddamn tight. She'd never done this before, so he tried to be as careful and slow as he could. He waited for her to shake her head, and when she told him to go on, he pushed deeper, slow and steady.
"Harry," she moaned, shuddering. He was all the way inside of her. He felt embarrassed as his hips stuttered with stops and starts. He tried not to come too soon, while glancing between them every second to make sure he wasn't rubbing against her wound. He heard a frustrated groan, and she pushed at his chest. He whined when he slipped out completely.
Frightened, he thought he'd hurt her and she didn't want to do this anymore, but she pushed him all the way down. He hit the mattress hard on his back and blinked up at her climbing on top, throwing one leg over his.
"What are you–"
She shushed him. Her black hair fell long and messy down her chest, not quite covering her breasts. He continued to stare.
When he saw her struggling to get him back inside, a chuckle rumbled in his throat as he gripped her waist to help her balance. She reached behind herself, taking hold of his cock and guiding it to where she wanted it. He wetted his lips, his throat completely dry.
They both groaned when she slid down and braced both hands on his chest for support. He helped her rock her hips until she huffed, hair tossed back. She then started rolling her hips the way she liked it, putting her whole body into it. His jaw went slack as he made an embarrassing noise, clutching her right hip, his other hand squeezing one of her breasts, teasing her nipple.
He was already this close to coming, but he needed to make sure she came, too. He brushed her hair out of her pretty face, his feet flattened on the bed as he pushed up when she rocked down. Her insides sucked him in tightly; he felt an explosion coming. He couldn't hold it much longer, so he took the hand from her hip to thumb over her clit, rubbing it in a firm steady motion until she was choking on air, hips faltering, cunt clenching around his cock.
When he felt himself getting close, he tried to lift her off of him, but her body didn't comply. She sat fully on his cock. He pushed himself up, an arm around her waist, his chest against hers, their foreheads together.
"Inside, Harry, p-please," she whimpered before pushing her tongue into his mouth, and his cock pulsed as he spilt into her, shuddering with her.
It wasn't after he'd recovered from his fever and opened his eyes that he realised what he'd allowed to happen. She covered his mouth before he could say a word, her eyelids drooping as she steadied her breathing.
"I'm pathetically in love with you, too."
He felt tears forming in the wells of his eyes, and he tugged her in and kissed her again, and again, and again...
Moments later, stillness had taken over. Harry was lying on his side, head propped up on his hand as he rubbed circles on her belly. She was lying on her back, lazy dark eyes peering at his face.
"What if I've impregnated you?"
"Does it matter?" she whispered while tracing his features with her fingertips.
"It does to me," he said. "You'd have my daughter."
She arched an eyebrow at him.
"What?" he chuckled.
"You said daughter," she said and bit back a smile.
"Or son."
Her smile widened but didn't last too long before worry overtook her face. She grasped his hand and brought it to her cheek.
"I won't ever marry or fall in love again," she said.
His stomach twisted into double knots. "You will, Peach." He hated to say that, but he knew for a fact that she would fall in love or at least marry someone else. "You'll marry a prince, or even better, a king."
"How is that better?"
"A king, Peach." He raised a brow. "And knowing you, if you succeed, and become Queen, you'll marry someone who worships you, someone who would live and die for you."
And if she carried Harry's child because of what they'd done tonight, that child would belong to that king, who could give it the life Harry could never offer. That child would never know Harry existed. Reyna would never talk about Harry for the baby's own sake. Harry would want that, too. Even when it was killing him just thinking about it.
"Would you?" Her voice pulled him back.
He dropped his gaze to her mouth for a second before glancing back up to her twinkling eyes. They crinkled as she smiled.
"Would I what?"
"Live and die for me," she said, her tone teasing yet anticipative.
"In a heartbeat," he answered without a second thought.
"Good," she sounded content. "Don't love me less than that."
Before he could come up with a proper response, she'd already drifted off.
.
.
.
Reyna woke up just before dawn. It wasn't easy to sleep when all that you saw when you closed your eyes was dying people. Except that this time Harry was there with her. He'd held her close as she'd broken down in front of her uncle's body. A headless corpse. She didn't know if he'd been decapitated and she prayed it wasn't true, but that was the worst image her mind could come up with.
When she was little, she'd been forced to watch a public execution. The prisoner had smiled before they'd chopped his head off in front of the people. For him, death had been an escape, not a punishment.
Reyna had considered death, too. She'd almost executed the thought, but then it hit her that she wasn't that prisoner – death wouldn't be an escape for her. If she died, she'd die as someone who'd not only betrayed her kingdom but also murdered her uncle. If they wanted to accuse her of the crimes she hadn't committed, they would have to say it to her face.
She and Harry had travelled through the night. He had insisted on taking her to the castle just in case something bad happened along the way. She believed he just wanted to buy some more time with her, which was also the reason she'd let him come. She wasn't brave enough to say goodbye so soon.
They rode fast, and the roads through towns were empty at early hours, so they managed to reach the castle at sunset. Since they couldn't be seen together, they stopped on the hill outside the castle grounds where they bid their final goodbyes.
The sunset fell on the castle walls, painting the cold grey of stone golden. The sky was a canopy of gold. Standing in the knee-length grasses, Harry and Reyna clutched each other like it was the end of the world. She could hear his heart beating in her ears and his hot breath in her hair. The summer heat penetrating their skin, the air warm and dry, but Reyna felt cold in her bones.
She pulled away to see his face, which was basking in sunset colours. The green in his eyes was a shade darker. A tender breeze blew through his hair, carrying the scent of flowers and dewy grass, wafting it all around them. She tucked his long locks behind his ears as she observed every movement on his handsome face. He had to be the most beautiful man in the world.
"I fell in love with you at sunset," he said.
She blinked and smiled, a tiny bit confused.
"When we first watched the sunset together on the mountain." He inclined his head, his eyebrows lifted as he peered at her intensely. "That was when I think I fell in love with you."
The hollowness inside her chest threatened to engulf her at once. She pressed her lips together, her tears forming again. "This is our last sunset together," she mumbled, trying to laugh but what came out was a depressing sigh.
His jaw clenched as he contemplated her. "When this is all over," she guessed he meant everything else, not them, "Can I still see you sometimes?"
It made her somewhat happy that he believed this would end with her victory. She placed her hands on his shoulders as her lips curved slightly. "I don't think that's possible."
She had to be practical and not give him false hope. She knew what it was like to believe in a happy ending which never existed.
When the corners of his mouth lowered, she wanted nothing more than to kiss that frown away, but she resisted. "Besides," she went on. "You can't love me more than you do now. All I ask of you is to not love me less..."
"I love you more every moment, every day."
She shook her head, dismissing the idea. "Not after we've said goodbye. You'll forget about me. You'll love another woman. If you could get over your first love and fall in love again, you will fall in love again after me." She worked her jaw, trying to look for the right words. "You're the first man I've ever loved. And if...if the prophecy is true, and...I become Queen–" It was the first time she'd dared to say that out loud "–then I'll marry for the sake of my kingdom. It won't be for love. Royalties don't marry for love."
"Your parents did."
"They met by the river, Harry. They didn't know they were a prince and a princess. They were just a boy and a girl." She bit her lower lip, looking up at him through her wet lashes. "They were the lucky ones."
She felt like he had a lot more to say and could have a whole debate with her right here, but he chose to remain silent. She was thankful for that.
"Here." She pulled the gold ring off her finger and put it on his hand before he could refuse to accept. "Find a good doctor for your mother. Quit stealing and do something that wouldn't get you in trouble. I don't want you to get arrested again and be rescued by some other lady."
A corner of his mouth rose as he gazed at the ring. "No lady is like you, Princess."
Something about that statement gave her a little hope. If no lady was like her, she could remain a special part inside of him, even after he'd fallen in love with another woman.
She stepped away, clasped her hands behind her back, and lifted her chin as she commanded, "Now look away."
"Are you about to change right here?" he joked, yet didn't sound like his old playful self.
She flashed him a beam. "Just do it."
He didn't argue and spun around, hands clasped behind his back.
She fought back tears as she reached for his fingers, which held onto hers as soon as he felt her touch.
"You're not allowed to watch me leave," she said matter-of-factly as tears streamed down her cheeks. "Don't turn around until you hear the gate close." I won't be able to leave if you're watching.
He gave a nod, so she slipped her hand away. He didn't try to keep it this time. He had accepted that this was the end for them. She walked backwards to her horse and mumbled a silent goodbye to Lightning before she mounted Thunder. Giving one last look at Harry, whose back was still turned to her, she kicked the horse into a gallop.
As Thunder carried her across the field, her hair flying in the wind, she almost looked back to see if Harry had turned around.