aurora

She had taken to counting the hours in her head during moments of unavoidable stress, a strange little ritual that helped her feel as though time was actually moving forward rather than stretching endlessly into an uncertain future. Every hour that passed was one hour closer to safety, and she welcomed even the most boredom-inducing hours as it still meant time was slipping past.

The pregnancy had complicated everything, of course. What had initially felt like a miracle, a bright spot of joy amid the darkness that had consumed their lives, had quickly become another source of anguish. It was, at its heart, just another thing that Florian could use against them if he discovered the truth.

They had been so careful. Only those who had been present in the room when the physician delivered his diagnosis knew the truth: Noah, Nicholas, Joakim, and Eliza. The physician himself had been sworn to secrecy, his silence purchased with a combination of gold and the implicit threat of what might happen should he prove indiscreet. Margaret had been told, of course, during one of Elysande's visits to her recovery room, and her reaction had been everything Elysande could have hoped for. Tears of joy and whispered promises to protect both mother and child with everything she had.

Beyond that small circle, no one knew. It was their joker.

Or so they had believed.

The summons to lunch had arrived that morning, delivered by a servant in Florian's uniform with the kind of formal courtesy that left no room for refusal. His Majesty requested the pleasure of the Crown Prince and Princess's company for a private family meal. An intimate gathering, just the immediate family, to discuss the final preparations for the upcoming coronation: nothing too outwardly suspicious, but the couple had learnt to question everything over the last eleven months.

Noah had stared at the invitation for what felt like an eternity before crushing it in his fist and tossing it toward the fireplace. It had missed, landing instead on the hearth where it sat like a threat and a promise all at once, the seal visible even through the wrinkled paper.

“We cannot refuse,” Elysande had said quietly, even though every instinct in her body screamed to do exactly that. “It would raise too many questions.”

“I know.” Noah was barely holding it together, if the crack in his voice was anything to go by. “That does not mean I have to like it.”

So here they were, seated at a table in one of the smaller private dining rooms, sharing a meal with the man who had tried to kill her at least twice and would undoubtedly try again given the opportunity. The food was exquisite, as palace food always was, but it might as well have been soil in Elysande's mouth for all she could taste it. She pushed a small portion of sliced meat around her plate, taking small bites when she remembered to, her appetite just as absent as it had been when she first arrived.

At least the nausea had subsided somewhat. The physician had assured her that was normal, that many women found the sickness easing as the pregnancy progressed. Small mercies.

Florian sat at the head of the table as he always did. He had been making idle conversation since they sat down, discussing everything from inconsequential topics such as the weather, to the more pressing matters such as guest lists for the coronation.

Reagan sat to his right, a picture of submission with no outward sign of faltering. But Elysande could see through it, the way her mother-in-law flinched whenever Florian addressed her directly. Even if she could not tell what, the Queen could clearly tell something was wrong. She did not know the source of it or understand why her family seemed to be tearing itself apart, but there was an air of unease in the room that even a dead man could sense.

Elysande felt a pang of sympathy for her mother-in-law. Reagan was not a bad person, and she was certainly not complicit in her husband's schemes. She was simply a woman who had spent decades learning not to see what was right in front of her, building walls of denial so high and so thick that the truth could not penetrate them. It was all in the name of survival; the only way to remain married to a monster without losing one's mind entirely.

Noah sat rigidly beside her, his hand occasionally finding hers beneath the table in grounding touches. He had barely spoken since they sat down, responding to his father's conversational overtures with monosyllabic answers and smiles that did not reach his eyes. It seemed the effort of playing along with this grotesque parody of a family meal was wearing him down to the bone.

“The coronation robes have been completed, I understand,” Florian was saying, lumping a cut of meat into his mouth so that his next words were slightly muffled around the food. “The tailors did excellent work. You will look every inch the king, Noah.”

“Thank you, Father.” The words came out flat, devoid of any genuine gratitude.

“And the Princess's gown is quite lovely as well, from what I hear.” Florian's gaze slid to Elysande. “I am certain she will look exquisite.”

Elysande forced herself up straighter in the chair. “You are too kind, Your Majesty.”

“Not at all. It is simply an observation.” He took a sip of wine, his movements slow enough to tell he was enjoying this. “I must say, you are looking rather well these days, my dear. There is a certain... glow about you. Would you not agree, my love?”

The last statement was directed at Reagan, who looked up from her own plate with a slightly startled look. “I... yes, I suppose so. You do look well, Elysande. The colour has returned to your cheeks.”

“The fresh air has been beneficial,” Elysande replied carefully. “I have been trying to spend more time in the gardens.”

“Ah, yes. Fresh air and a little exercise.” Florian set down his wine glass deliberately before fixing his stare back on the Princess. “All very good for one's health. Particularly important, I would imagine, for a woman in your condition.”

Checkmate.

Elysande felt Noah go rigid beside her, his hand tightening around hers hard enough to crush her wedding ring into the side of her finger. Across the table, Reagan's brow furrowed in confusion, her gaze darting between her husband and her daughter-in-law as she tried to parse the meaning behind his words.

“My condition?” Elysande kept her voice steady through sheer force of will, even as her heart threatened to pound out of her chest. “I am not certain I understand your meaning, Your Majesty.”

Florian smiled, cold and satisfied, a predator who had finally cornered its prey.

“Come now, my dear. There is no need for pretense. Not among family.” He picked up his wine glass again, swirling the dark liquid with eerie indifference. “I am speaking, of course, of the baby. My grandchild.”

The silence that followed such a revelation was absolute. Elysande could hear her own blood rushing in her ears as if this were the first time she had heard the news herself. Beside her, Noah was just as still, rigid like his father’s power had finally manifested into a physical thing and turned him into stone.

Somehow, despite all their care, Florian knew.

Reagan was the first to break the silence, her confusion transforming into dawning wonder as she processed what her husband had said. “The baby?” Her voice came out a barely concealed tremble as she looked towards her daughter-in-law. “Elysande, is this true? Are you truly...?”

Elysande could not speak. Her throat had closed around any words she might have offered, leaving her mute and frozen in her chair. She could only nod, a small, jerky motion that felt more powerful than any verbal confession she could have given.

Almost instantly, the weariness and worry that had lined Reagan’s features for so long melted away, replaced by a joy so pure and radiant that it only made the conflicting emotions in Elysande’s chest worsen. The Queen rose from her chair, her napkin falling unheeded to the floor, and for a moment it looked as though she might rush around the table to embrace her daughter-in-law.

“Oh, my dear!” Tears were already forming in Reagan's eyes, spilling down her cheeks before she could stop them. Her happiness seemed to overcome and make her forget every other concern that had ever graced her body. “Oh, this is wonderful news! A grandchild! Noah, you are going to be a father! I cannot believe... after all this time... a baby!”

“Reagan.” Florian's voice cut through her display like a sword. “Collect yourself. Such excessive displays of emotion are hardly becoming of a queen.”

Reagan froze mid-step, her elation turning small and uncertain. She looked at her husband, then at Noah and Elysande, and reluctantly sank back into her chair. Her hands twisted together in her lap, and though she tried to compose her features into something more dignified, Elysande could see the hurt and confusion that lingered in her eyes.

“Forgive me,” Reagan murmured, though Elysande could not fathom what she had to apologise for. “I was simply... surprised. It is happy news.”

“Indeed it is.” Florian's tone was bored, as though he were accepting a common compliment rather than discussing the growth of his lineage. And that made it worse. “Very happy news. The continuation of the royal line is always cause for celebration. Which is precisely why we must take every precaution to ensure the safety of both mother and child.”

Like mice, they were trapped shut.

“What sort of precautions?” Noah’s remaining composure, even his rigidity, had begun to shatter, leaving nothing but raw hostility in its wake.

Florian appeared entirely unphased by his son's tone. “Nothing unreasonable, I assure you. Simply common sense measures that any loving family would insist upon.”He paused, taking another leisurely sip of wine. “For example, the journey to the coronation chapel. The Chancellor and I were discussing it just this morning, and we both agreed that it would be most unwise for the Princess to make such a journey on horseback.”

“Elysande is an accomplished rider,” Noah pushed back flatly. “She has been riding since childhood. There is no danger.”

“Under normal circumstances, perhaps. But these are not normal circumstances, are they?” Florian's grin turned cunning. “The road to the chapel passes through the village, as you know. Crowds will be gathered along the route, pressing close to catch a glimpse of their future king and queen. The noise, the chaos, the unpredictability of it all... hardly an appropriate environment for a woman in a delicate condition. And horses can be so easily spooked by large crowds. We would never forgive ourselves if something were to happen.”

The hypocrisy of it was staggering. This man, who had poisoned her food and sabotaged her saddle, now claiming concern for her safety. This man, who had ordered her death and would order it again without hesitation, pretending to worry about the wellbeing of her unborn child.

Elysande wanted to laugh. She wanted to scream. She wanted to reach across the table and claw that satisfied smile off his face.

Instead, she sat perfectly still and said nothing. As was all she could do.

“If the Princess is with child,” Florian continued, coming across every inch the picture of reasonable concern, “then it seems hardly proper for her to ride a horse up to the chapel. Perhaps a carriage would be better suited to her needs. A royal carriage, with an appropriate escort. The Chancellor has already offered to arrange suitable guards for the journey.”

Miller’s guards. Men who answered to the king that would follow orders without so much as a blink. Soldiers who would ensure that Elysande arrived at the chapel... or did not arrive at all.

“That will not be necessary.” Noahdid not hesitate, and whilst his voice suggested a layer of control, Elysande could feel the rage practically vibrating through him. “My wife will ride with me, as planned. I am perfectly capable of ensuring her safety.”

“I am sure you believe that.” Florian's eyes glittered with something that might have been amusement. “But we must consider what is best for the child. Your child, Noah. Surely you would not put the heir to the throne at risk simply to prove a point?”

It was masterfully done, Elysande had to admit. Florian had framed the entire situation so that any resistance on their part would appear reckless, unconcerned with the safety of their own baby. He had weaponised their love for this child before it was even born, turning their greatest joy into another tool for his manipulation just as they had so long feared.

“The heir to the throne is not at risk,” Noah said through gritted teeth. “My wife is healthy, her horse is gentle, and she will be surrounded by guards of my choosing. There is no need for a carriage, and there is certainly no need for the Chancellor's involvement.”

“Noah.” It was Reagan who spoke next. The perfect, unknowing weapon of manipulation without her even being aware. “Perhaps your father has a point. If Elysande is truly with child, perhaps it would be safer—“

“Stay out of this, Mother.”

The words came out sharper than Noah probably intended, and Reagan flinched as though she had been physically struck. The dismissal even drew a gasp out of Elysande, who grabbed at her husband's arm. She saw the moment that Noah had registered what he had done when the hurt flashed across his mothers eyes. There was a guilt that briefly crossed his face, but he did not apologise. Could not, perhaps, without undermining his position.

Florian watched the exchange with undisguised satisfaction. This was what he wanted, after all. Not just to separate her from Noah on the journey to the chapel, but to drive wedges between all of them. To isolate Noah from everyone who loved him and ensure that when the moment came, he would stand alone.

“I understand your concerns,” Florian said, and his voice was so perfectly calibrated to sound sympathetic that it made Elysande want to vomit. “You are protective of your wife. That is admirable. But protectiveness must not cloud judgement, especially not when the stakes are so high. We are talking about the future of the kingdom, after all.”

“The future of the kingdom will be fine.” Noah pushed back from the table, his chair scraping against the floor with a screech that made both women jump. “My wife will ride beside me to the coronation, as is proper for the Crown Princess. We will not be separated. Not by a carriage, not by the Chancellor's guards, not by anything.”

He was on his feet now, standing over the table with barely contained fury. Elysande rose as well, placing a gentle hand on his arm, trying to placate him before he said something that could not be taken back.

“Noah—“

“I will not let you-!” He caught himself mid sentence, any feeble attempt at protest dying on his lips as he realised what he had been about to accuse his father of.

I will not let you kill her.

They could not play their hand that early, but she feared his outburst had already sealed it.

The unfinished sentence hung in the air between them, damning in its incompleteness. Florian's grin widened, just a fraction but enough for Elysande to see. He knew that Noah understood he was behind the assassination attempts, and now Noah had all but confirmed it.

“You will not let me what, my son?” Florian pressed cunningly, the smile that clung to his lips no longer concealed in its slyness. “Ensure the safety of your wife and child? Protect the heir to the throne? What, exactly, will you not permit me to do?”

Noah had been backed into a corner and could say nothing. He could only look at his father with an expression of such bleak hatred that Elysande half expected the air between them to combust.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked toward the door.

“Noah!” Reagan rose from her chair, reaching toward her son with desperate hands. The door slammed behind him, cutting off her plea.

Elysande stood frozen for a moment, caught between the instinct to follow her husband and the awareness that fleeing too quickly would only make things worse. She could feel Florian's eyes turn to her now, waiting to see what she would do.

With all the remaining strength she could muster, she turned to face the King, channelling every ounce of composure she had remaining in her body. “If you will excuse me, Your Majesty. I should see to my husband.”

“Of course.“ Florian's tone was deceptively gracious, utterly unconcerned by the scene that had just unfolded for he knew he had won. “Do give him my regards. And my dear…” He caught her hand as she passed, squeezing her wrist just tight enough that she feared she would be feeling the imprint of fingertips for days to come. “Do consider the carriage. For the sake of the child, if nothing else.”

Elysande did not trust herself to respond. She simply inclined her head in what she hoped came across as acknowledgement but was more like an attempt to dismiss him, then turned and walked toward the door with as much dignity as she could muster.

As she reached for the handle, she caught Reagan's eye. The Queen was still standing, a mixture of confusion and hurt branded across her face.

Then she was through the door and in the corridor, and any moment they may have shared was gone. She had a more pressing matter at hand.

She found Noah around the corner, leaning against the wall with his head bowed and his shoulders heaving. The remaining composure he had been holding onto, the one that bought him enough time to escape the room, had fallen away in it’s entirety now that he was away from his father's watchful eyes, and when he looked up at her approach, she saw that his eyes were bright with unshed tears of pure anger.

Noah did not speak. Not when he saw her, nor when she stepped closer. Elysande could only offer what she had, which was to take his face between her hands, thumbs brushing against his cheekbones, and look deep into his eyes. Noah’s own eyes closed at the touch, leaning into the offering of an embrace like a child accepting comfort. Which was what he seemed scarily close to right now.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment, and when Noah finally did, it was proceeded by a small cough to clear his throat.

“He is going to try something.” His voice was barely a whisper. “He is going to separate us, and then…”

“He is going to try,” Elysande agreed. “But he is not going to succeed. We will not let him.”

She did not know if that was true. Truthfully, she did not know if they had any power to stop whatever Florian was planning, more did she have much faith in their ability to do so in such a state. But in that moment, standing in the corridor with her husband falling apart in her hands, she knew it was what he needed to hear.

What they both needed to believe.

Noah took a long moment to breath, to simply feel the scrape of her skin against his. Something released within him, whether it giving way to light or darkness, Elysande did not know, but she felt the moment the heavy boulder rolled off of his chest.

In one motion, he was standing straight, the sudden height difference causing Elysande’s hands to slip from his face as he stepped around her. “I must find Nicholas.”

Elysande was not quick enough to step in his path.

“My love—“

Noah brushed off the hand she reached out, and Elysande felt momentarily burned. He paused long enough to look back at her, a feeble apology in his eyes. “I’ll find you soon,” and when that did not seem enough, he added “I promise.”

And then Elysande was forced to watch his shoulders retreat down the corridor without so much as a goodbye.

—

The afternoon had bled into evening by the time Noah finally returned to their chambers, and Elysande could tell from the way he held himself just as rigidly as before that nothing had been resolved.

She had spent the hours since the disastrous lunch trying to occupy herself with small tasks: reading correspondence that she could not focus on, attempting needlework that ended up hopelessly tangled, staring out the window at the gardens below without really focusing on anything in particular. Still, no matter how hard she tried, the words on the pages blurred together into indistinguishable blots of ink, the thread tangled itself despite her best efforts, and the gardens might as well have been a painting for all the attention she paid to the actual movement of the leaves.

Eliza had come and gone throughout the afternoon, bringing tea that went cold and untouched, her fussing saying everything her words did not. She had offered to stay and keep Elysande company while they waited for news, but Elysande had sent her away with reassurances that she was not quite certain she herself believed. She needed to be alone with her thoughts, to process everything that had happened at the lunch without having to maintain a brave face for anyone else's benefit. Even if Eliza did not mind the occasional breakdown, Elysande could not bring herself to burden the maid with such a thing right now.

It was the uncertainty that was almost worse than a definite answer on where the information had come from would have been. If they knew who had betrayed them, they could at least take steps to contain the damage and cut off the flow of information before anything else could be revealed. But not knowing? That was like fighting ghosts, swinging at enemies who might not even exist, suspecting everyone and trusting no one.

Noah had followed his word and gone straight to Nicholas after storming out of the lunch, and the two of them had been closeted away in the library for hours, presumably trying to answer the same questions that plagued her. She had not been invited to join them, and she had not asked. Sometimes Noah needed to work through things with Nicholas first, allow himself the space to pace and rage and strategise in the company of someone who could match his intensity without being overwhelmed by it. Nicholas had known him longer and understood the particular rhythms of his anger. He knew when and how to push, and when to simply let him burn.

Elysande understood that. She did not resent it.

But the waiting…

The waiting was horrible; each minute stretched into an hour, and every hour into an eternity. By the time she heard the soft click of the door opening, the sound unreasonably loud in her castle of solitude, the candles she had lit were already burning themselves out.

Noah had been struck like a match, all unpredictable movements and scorching devastation. He did not greet her, did not even acknowledge her presence on the settee where she had been sitting for the better part of an hour. He simply marched past her toward the fireplace, then turned and walked back toward the window, then turned again, his long legs eating up the distance with franticness not unlike a wild animal.

He moved across the chamber without stopping, covering the distance between fireplace and window in mere seconds before turning suddenly and retracing the same path in reverse. His jacket had been discarded at some point during his hours with Nicholas, clearly, no longer on his person. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing tattooed forearms where the veins threatened to burst the dam of ink and skin with every tense movement. The collar to the front of his neck seemed stretched out as well, more give on one side as though he had been tugging at it in frustration. His hair was dishevelled from running his hands through it repeatedly, the careful arrangement of the morning reduced to chaos like everything else his father touched.

There was a wild, almost feral energy about him that set Elysande's nerves on edge. Something she did not remember seeing before in such a way.

“It had to be the physician,” he was saying, more to himself than to her, for he had not yet acknowledged her presence. “That is the only explanation. He was the only one outside our circle who knew, and he must have been bought. Miller probably offered him more than we did. Or threatened his family. Or both.”

“We do not know that for certain,” Elysande said from her position on the settee, unable to stay quiet although he had not necessarily intended to involve her in a conversation. “It could have been anyone. A servant who overheard something they should not have. Someone who noticed I had stopped drinking wine at meals, or that certain foods were making me ill, or that my gowns were being let out—“

“Your gowns have not been let out yet. You are barely showing, if at all.” This was said as a snap. Unintentionally harsh, and something Elysande would not hold against him, but it still stung as such a fast dismissal. Just for a moment. He reached the window again, his reflection ghosting across the glass before he spun away. “No, it was the physician. It had to be. Nicholas agrees with me. We are going to have him brought in for questioning tomorrow, find out exactly what he told my father and when he told it and how much gold crossed his palm in exchange for our secrets.”

“And if it was not him?” Elysande did her best to keep her voice calm, even as her own anxiety suffocated her. One of them needed to remain level headed, and it was clear that Noah was in no state to fulfil that role. “If we accuse him falsely and it turns out the information came from somewhere else entirely? We will have made an enemy of someone who might otherwise have remained loyal, and we will be no closer to discovering the true source of the leak.”

Noah made a frustrated sound, somewhere between a growl and a groan, his hands coming up to grip his hair before dropping helplessly back to his sides. He spun on her briefly, just long enough to shout a sentence before he was back off marching. “Then we will question everyone! Every servant who has access to our chambers, every guard who has been present during your examinations, every maid who has helped you dress, every cook who has prepared your meals! Every single person who could possibly have known, we will bring them in and we will find out the truth.”

“That could take weeks. Months, even. And if word gets out that we are conducting such an investigation, it will only confirm to your father that his revelation has shaken us exactly as he intended.”

“I do not care what my Father thinks!” The words exploded out of him this time, not just an off handed snap. They were loud enough to make her flinch, and loud enough to make Noah freeze mid step. He seemed to, finally, register for the first time how his agitation was affecting her. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, but no less intense. He continued pacing, turning his attention back to the floor as he chewed on the skin around his nail. “I am sorry. I did not mean to... I just…”

Elysande rose from the settee, moving slowly toward him as one might approach a spooked horse. She did not speak until she stood just off from his marching route. “I know you are frightened; as am I. But pacing a hole in the floor is not going to solve anything.”

“Then what will?” He turned his head briefly to face her, and she saw the swirling storm of emotion in his eyes, it all churning together into something that was slowly consuming him from the inside out. If she had glanced down, she would have seen that his knuckles were white with tension, and there was a tremor running through his entire frame that spoke of exhaustion held at bay by willpower alone. “Tell me what to do, Elysande. Tell me how to fix this. Because I have been trying to figure it out for hours, and I am no closer to an answer than I was when I started.”

Elysande reached for him then. She cut into his space and placed her hands on his chest just above the rapid hammer of his heart. “Stop.”

He did stop, but only because she was standing directly in front of him to block his path.

“I cannot stop,” Noah’s words were a fragile admission. “My father knows about the baby, which means he knows how to hurt us in the worst possible way. And now he is going to use that knowledge against us. It is all a trap. He is going to separate us on the way to the coronation, and then he is going to—“ He still could not bring himself to say those words. He’s going to kill you. And our baby.

Elysande reached up to cup his face in her hands, forcing him to focus on her and nothing else. “I know what he is planning. I was there, remember? I heard every word he said. I know exactly what kind of danger we are facing.”

“Then you understand why I cannot simply sit still and do nothing!” He pulled away from her touch, unable to bear the tenderness when his whole body was screaming for action. He resumed his pacing, though his circuit was off kilter now, having to divert around the space where she stood. “I have to figure out who betrayed us. I have to find a way to counter whatever he is planning. I have to protect you, protect our child, and I cannot do any of that if I do not know who to trust, if I cannot even feel safe in my own chambers!”

“You can trust me.” Her voice was quiet but firm, cutting through his spiral with the certainty of absolute truth. “You can trust Nicholas, and Joakim, and Margaret, and Eliza. That has not changed. Whatever else has happened, however Florian discovered our secret, that has not changed.”

“How do you know?” Noah whirled to face her, a man grasping for certainty in a world that seemed determined to deny him any. “How do you know that one of them did not—“

“Because I know them.” Elysande closed the distance between them again, refusing to let him retreat into his fear. “The same way you know them. Nicholas would die before he betrayed you; he has been your friend since childhood, your brother in everything but blood. Joakim has been protecting me since I was a girl, he has sworn his life to my guard and has proven his loyalty a thousand times over. Margaret nearly gave her life for me, and she would do it again without hesitation. These are not people who would sell us out to Florian, no matter what he offered or threatened.”

Noah stared at her, chest heaving, and for the first time he seemed to give in. Not to belief, or faith that everything would be okay, but to exhaustion. Even if he had wanted to, he was not certain his legs could carry him much longer.

“Then who?” The question came out pathetically broken, all the fight draining out of him at once. “Who told him, Elysande? Because someone did. They looked at our happiness and saw an opportunity to exploit it. And I do not know who it was, and I do not know how to find out, and I do not know how to fix any of this.”

Now he had stopped pacing, he stood in the middle of the room, a limp shell of his prior rage. That anger had burned itself out, leaving nothing but deep set exhaustion in his wake. His body was simply refusing to carry him any further.

Elysande's heart ached for him. For weeks now, months even, he had been carrying the weight of everything on his shoulders. He had been strong for both of them, holding himself together through sheer force of will, refusing to let her see how much it was costing him.

And now that will was finally beginning to shatter.

“Come here,” she said placatingly, reaching for his hand.

“Elysande, I cannot…”

“Come here.” It was not a request this time, but a gentle command, delivered like a wife, not a Princess. She tugged gently at his hand, drawing him toward the settee. “Sit with me. Just for a moment. Please.”

He resisted for a heartbeat, then two, the stubborn part of him insisting that there was too much to do, too many problems to solve, too little time to waste on rest. But his body was betraying him, tiredness dragging at his limbs, and eventually he allowed himself to be led. He sank onto the settee beside her, his leg bouncing restlessly now the only sign of his inner need to be productive.

Elysande brushed a stray strand of hair away from his temple, tucking it behind his ear now it was long enough. “You are going to make yourself ill.”

“I cannot rest.“ His voice was tight, strained, the words forced through a throat that seemed to have forgotten how to relax. “Every time I close my eyes, I imagine…”

He did not finish the sentence. He did not need to. Elysande knew exactly what he imagined, because the same images had been plaguing her own thoughts since the moment Florian had revealed his knowledge. Her, alone in a carriage surrounded by Miller's guards, separated from everyone who could protect her. The carriage stopping on some deserted stretch of road, maybe men approaching with weapons drawn, or perhaps something subtler; poison again, or an “accident” arranged so perfectly no one would suspect it. And Noah, her Noah, riding ahead to the chapel, completely unaware until it was too late and someone brought him the news that would break him entirely.

She shook the images away, refusing to give them power over her.

“Look at me,” Elysande commanded, giving him no other option as she turned his face toward hers with gentle fingers beneath his chin.

She need not say anything else for Noah's eyes already desperately searched hers, looking for that thing he needed to find. Reassurance, or hope, or simply the strength to keep going for another day. Elysande did not back down. She held his gaze steadily, willing him to see what she saw: the two of them, together, strong despite everything that had been thrown at them. They had survived the awkwardness of their betrothal, the hostility of their early meetings and the slow tide change of their relationship. They had survived assassination attempts and political schemes galore, not to mention the constant pressure of a court that wanted nothing more than to see them fail.

“I love you,” Noah whispered in prayer, achingly vulnerable and a far cry from the prince she once knew.

The words brought a faint smile to her lips as she leaned forward. “I know.”

The kiss started gentle, a simple offer of comfort, but Noah responded with desperate hunger that could not be concealed even below his worries. His hands came up to grip her waist and pull her closer, and the kiss deepened into something more urgent. In it she could taste the fear and exhaustion that had become a part of his being the last few months; the overwhelming need for anything that could anchor him in a storm that threatened to sweep him away.

When she finally pulled back, they were both breathing harder than before. Noah's eyes had darkened, the anger and fear of before moulding into something that had been neglected in recent weeks as stress consumed their every waking moment. She recognised that look. She knew it like the back of her hand, as well as he likely recognised it in her. It was desire, yes, but more than that: it was a need for closeness, for intimacy, for the particular kind of peace that could only be found in another person's arms.

“Let me take care of you,” Elysande murmured against his lips as she allowed her fingers to trace lines along the cut of his jaw. “Let me help you forget, just for a little while.”

Her name came out of Noah’s lips a breathless plea, caught somewhere in the back of his throat and reduced to a pointless attempt at protest. She could feel the conflict raging within him; the need to be the one taking care of her, but also an overwhelming desire to let go.

Elysande chose that moment to catch his bottom lip with her thumb, silencing whatever objection he had been about to raise. “You have been worrying about me for months, putting my needs and my safety before your own at every turn. You have been so strong for so long, my love. Let me do this for you. Let me give you something good in the middle of all this fear.”

She did not wait for his response. She had already made up her mind, and she knew from the way his breath had quickened that his body had made the decision even if his mind was still catching up.

She slid from the settee to kneel on the floor before him, settling herself between his legs with a grace she had become surprisingly talented at in the last five months. Her hands came to rest on his thighs, his muscles solid and tense below her touch, and she looked up at him through her lashes. His breath snatched in his throat audibly, his whole body going rigid with sudden, visceral awareness of what she intended.

“My love, you do not have to—“

“I want to.” She held his gaze, letting him see the truth of it, the desire that matched his own. “I want to make you feel good. I want to watch you come apart for me, to see that look on your face when pleasure overwhelms everything else. I want to give you this, my Prince. Will you let me?”

Noah’s resolve crumbled visibly. He could only nod once, a jerky, desperate motion that spoke of desire held in check for too long finally being given permission to exist. His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone with a tenderness that made her heart clench.

“I love you,” he said again, and this time the words were steadier, grounded in something more solid than fear.

Elysande only shushed him gently, turning her head to press a kiss into his palm. “Then let me show you how much I love you too.”

Her fingers found the laces of his trousers, working them loose at an agonising pace. She could feel him watching her every movement, each and every fumble of her fingers or steadying of her breath placed under a magnifying glass for him to see. A true expression of her emotion she would not otherwise vocalise. Noah lost the ability to point it out, for breathing had grown unsteady, each exhale carrying a slight tremor laced with anticipation. The anxiety that had held him captive for so long gave ground for something far more pleasurable.

Words could only do so much against fear, Elysande realised. What he needed was to be pulled out of his own head, to be anchored firmly in his body, to be reminded that there was still pleasure to be found in the world even when everything else seemed determined to fall apart.

She freed him from the confines of his trousers, wrapping her hand around his length in the way she knew he liked after so many months of learning one another. He was already half hard, her proximity and intent alone enough to set him on edge even before she had truly begun, and she stroked him slowly, watching as his head fell back against the settee and his eyes fluttered closed.

“Look at me,” she commanded softly, echoing her earlier words. “I want you to watch.”

Noah’s eyes opened immediately upon instruction, irises blurred with want, and he made it a mission to fix his gaze on her face as she lowered her head. She did not break, keeping their eyes locked together as her lips parted and she took him into her mouth with a purposeful leisure. She saw the exact moment when the final conscious thought fled entirely from his mind. His mouth went slack, lips parting on a soundless gasp, as she worked him as far as she could to begin with as he hardened to his full length.

The first groan that left Noah’s lips was guttural, torn from his throat by her attention. One hand came up to tangle in her hair, not guiding or directing, just holding her in place for connection as much as the physical sensation. He was already trembling beneath her touch, weeks of accumulated stress and unknowing neglect beginning to unravel with every movement of her tongue along the veins on the back of his cock.

Elysande worked him slowly at first, allowing herself to relearn the shape and taste of him and rediscover the familiar territory with fresh attention. She knew him well enough by now to recognise the places that made him gasp, the rhythms that made him shudder, the particular combination of pressure and movement that could reduce him to incoherence. She deployed this knowledge deliberately, knowing that with each lift of her head off of his length, a swipe of her tongue around his tip would have him melting into her hands.

“Elysande.” Her name was a fascinated prayer on Noah’s lips, the prince using all of his might to stay still and keep his eyes locked on her bent over figure. “Gods, Elysande, I…”

She only hummed in response, the vibration from the sound drawing another strangled sound from deep within. His fingers tightened in her hair, and she could feel the effort it was taking him not to thrust up into her mouth trembling through his thighs. She appreciated that restraint, even as she silently resolved to push him past it.

She took him deeper, hollowing her cheeks and increasing the suction, a momentary lapse in control from Noah sending his cock to the back of her throat. Elysande welcomed it with only a soft choking sound, too overcome by the sounds he was making now. They had turned. barely coherent, less moans and more wordless expressions of adoration. She could feel him getting close, the evidence of it on her tongue, and she redoubled her efforts, determined to push him over the edge into oblivion.

Noah’s voice had lost its power as his body coiled close to the edge, only able to tug in her hair as a warning; a message for her to pull off now.

Elysande did not pull away.

Instead, she took him as deep as she could manage, her hand working the base of his shaft in tandem with her mouth, and she looked up to meet his eyes at the exact moment he fell apart.

Noah came with a shout that he barely managed to muffle behind his hand, his whole body shuddering with the force of his release. She swallowed around him, working him through every wave and only gentling her movements as the pleasure gradually subsided and the tension finally drained from his frame.

When she finally released him, Noah went lax against the cushions, exhausted, but satisfied and impossibly relaxed all things considered. He looked utterly wrecked in the best possible way, all the nervous energy that had been consuming him replaced by a dreaminess so complete it bordered on unconsciousness. His hand had fallen from her hair to rest limply on his thigh.

Elysande slowly sat back on her heels, wiping delicately at the corner of her mouth with the grace of a woman who had not just had her husband reduced to putty in her hands.

Noah finally managed to push himself up against the backrest, reaching for his wife with uncoordinated hands. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. “Come here, let me…”

“Later.” She rose gracefully from her position on the floor, settling onto the settee beside him and then shifting until she was tucked against his chest, her head resting over his racing heart. “Right now, I just want to hold you.”

He did not argue. Perhaps he did not have the energy to argue, or perhaps he simply recognised that she was right, that this was what they both needed. His arms wrapped around her with what remained of his strength as sleep pulled at every edge, his cheek came to rest against the top of her head. His heartbeat was gradually slowing beneath her ear, the rhythm of prior arousal giving way to something calmer.

“I love you,” he murmured against her hair, and Elysande had to bite her lip to push back a retort that he had already said that. She knew he would continue to do so until the words left her lips in return, so she finally indulged him.

“I love you too.” She pressed a kiss to his chest, directly over his heart, feeling it beat strong and steady beneath her lips.

Satisfied, with the smallest of smiles grazing his lips, Noah fell silent. His fingers traced lazy, absent patterns along her spine.

For now, in this moment of peace they had carved out for themselves in the midst of chaos, that was enough.

They stayed like that as the evening deepened into night, wrapped around each other on the settee, finding comfort in closeness and warmth and the simple pleasure of breathing in tandem. Outside the windows, the palace continued its endless treachery, schemes swirling through corridors and council chambers from enemies and allies alike. But in this room, in this small sanctuary they had created, none of that existed.

There was only the two of them, holding each other in the darkness, refusing to let go.

—

They had migrated to the bed at some point, though Elysande could not quite recall the exact moment when they had made the transition. One moment they had been tangled together on the settee, content in the aftermath of intimacy, and the next she was blinking awake in the comfort of their bed, Noah's arm heavy across her waist and his breath warm against the back of her neck.

She did not know what time it was. The candles had long since burned out, not even the trace of smoke in the air. Through the windows, she could see nothing but darkness, the moon apparently hidden behind clouds or simply absent from this portion of the sky. It was late, that much was certain. Late enough that the palace had fallen into the kind of silence that only existed in the deepest hours of the night, when even the most dedicated servants had retired and the corridors lay empty and still.

Noah was asleep behind her, truly asleep in a way he had not been for weeks. His breathing was deep and even, his body practically one with the mattress. Whatever dreams he was having, they did not seem to be troubling him, and Elysande found herself reluctant to move for fear of disturbing the peace he had finally found.

She was just beginning to drift back toward sleep herself when a knock sounded.

It was soft, almost hesitant, as if apologising for its own existence even as it demanded attention. Three gentle raps against the heavy wood of the chamber door, followed by silence, followed by three more when no response was immediately forthcoming.

Noah stirred behind her, his arm tightening reflexively around her waist as consciousness began to intrude upon his rest. She could feel his eyelashes fluttering against the skin on her back as he came to. “What time is it?”

“Late,” Elysande replied, already extricating herself from his embrace and reaching for the robe that lay across the foot of the bed. “Someone is at the door.”

The knock came again, slightly louder this time, and she heard a familiar voice call softly through the wood. “Your Highnesses? Forgive the intrusion…”

Elysande felt some of the frustration ease from her shoulders at the sound of Joakim. If it were an emergency, if something had happened, he would not be knocking so gently nor apologising for disturbing them. He was the type to barrel down doors if necessary.

Still regaining her steadiness thanks to sleep, she crossed to the door and opened it a crack, just enough to peer out into the dimly lit corridor beyond. Joakim stood there in his usual position, though even in the low light she could see the uncertainty on his face. It was an unusual expression for him, and it immediately piqued her curiosity.

“Joakim? What is it?”

“I am very sorry to disturb you at this hour, Your Highness.” His voice was quiet, mindful of the sleeping palace around them. “But you have a visitor.”

Behind her, she heard Noah pushing himself upright in the bed, the rustle of sheets and the creak of the mattress marking his movement. “A visitor?” Sleep retreated quickly from his voice in the face of potential threat. “At this hour? Tell them to come back in the morning. Whatever it is can wait until—“

“I fear this is a guest who will not be turned away so easily,” Joakim interrupted, and Elysande need not ask who before a figure was stepping through the darkness into her line of sight.

The Queen looked nothing like the composed, dignified woman who had sat across from them at the lunch that afternoon. Her hair, usually arranged to perfection, hung loose around her shoulders in a cascade of greying darkness. She wore a simple dressing gown over her nightclothes, the fabric clutched closed at her throat with one hand, and her feet were bare beneath the hem. It was so unregal that Elysande almost gasped on the spot.

She looked for the first time, Elysande realised with a start, like a mother over a queen.

“Reagan” Elysande practically wheezed , stepping back from the door to allow her entrance. “Please, come in.”

Reagan hesitated on the threshold for just a moment, her eyes darting past Elysande to where Noah sat frozen in the bed, sheets pooled around his waist as he stared to the doorway in complete surprise. Then she stepped forward, crossing into the chamber, having made up her mind and not allowing herself to be dissuaded by her own insecurities.

Joakim caught Elysande's eye as she moved to close the door, and a wordless understanding passed between them. He inclined his head slightly, a gesture of acknowledgment, and then the door was shut and they were alone. The three of them: husband, wife, and mother, gathered in the intimate darkness of the royal bedchamber.

“Mother.” Noah's address could only be described as strangled. He was making no move to rise from the bed, seemingly frozen in place by shock or emotion or some combination of the two. “What are you... it is the middle of the night. Is something wrong? Has something happened?”

“No. Nothing has happened.” Reagan's voice trembled slightly, but her gaze was steady as she looked at her son. “I simply... I needed to see you. After today, after everything that happened at the lunch, I could not sleep. I kept thinking about the look on your face when you left, the anger and the fear, and I…” She broke off, pressing a hand to her mouth as though to physically contain the emotion that threatened to spill forth. “I needed to see for myself that you were alright.”

Elysande moved quietly to the side of the room, settling into one of the chairs near the fireplace. She understood, with an instinct that went beyond conscious thought, that this moment was not about her. She had a role to play here, yes, but it was the role of witness, of silent support; a presence that could be relied upon but would not intrude. Whatever was about to unfold between mother and son, it had been building for far longer than she had been a part of Noah's life, and they needed the space to let it happen.

Noah finally seemed to regain control of his limbs, pushing back the covers and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He had pulled on a loose shirt at some point before they fell asleep, she noticed, and he tugged at the hem of it now in a gesture that was almost self conscious. As though he were a boy again, caught out of bed past his bedtime, uncertain whether he was in trouble or not.

“I am fine, Mother,” he said, but even he seemed to hear how unconvincing the words sounded. He cleared his throat, tried again. “That is... it has been a difficult day. A difficult few months, really. But I am managing.”

“Are you?” Reagan took a step closer, then another, closing the distance between them before Noah could speak. “Because from where I was sitting this afternoon, it did not look like managing. It looked like a man at the very end of his endurance, trying desperately to hold himself together and failing.”

Noah flinched at the accuracy of her assessment. “You do not understand. There are things happening that you do not know about, pressures that—“

“Then tell me.” Reagan's voice cracked on the words, and Elysande saw tears begin to gather in her eyes. “Please, Noah. Tell me what is happening. I need to understand why everything is falling apart, and you cannot stand to be in the same room as your father for even two moments.” She had to stop, had to take a shuddering breath before she could continue. “Tell me why you look as if you are falling apart, and tell me why you feel as though you cannot come to your mother for help.”

The silence that followed was heavy, accumulated years of distance and words that had never been spoken floating in the air around them. Elysande simply watched from her position by the fireplace, her heart aching for both of them: for Reagan, who clearly loved her son desperately but had never been allowed to show it, and for Noah, who had spent his entire life starving for exactly the kind of maternal affection that was being offered to him now.

She thought of what Margaret had told her, all those months ago when she was still new to Belgrave and trying to understand the complicated dynamics of the royal family. That the guards used to see the Prince, just a boy at the time, standing outside the Queen's chambers in the middle of the night. Sometimes for hours. He never knocked. Never went in. Just stood there in the darkness, as close to his mother as he dared to be.

And Reagan had never known. She had never been told that her son had stood vigil outside her door night after night, desperate for connection but too afraid to reach for it. Florian had seen to that, had made sure that any bond between mother and son remained stunted and starved, and he had used Reagan's own obedience to isolate Noah from the one person who might have offered him unconditional love.

The cruelty of it took Elysande's breath away, even now, even after everything else she had learned about the kind of man her father-in-law truly was.

“I cannot tell you everything,” Noah finally said, throat sounding sore as though scraped raw by feelings he was struggling to contain. “There are things... it would not be safe for you to know. It would put you in danger, and I will not do that. I have already put too many people in danger simply by existing.”

“Noah—“

“But I can tell you this.” He looked up at his mother, and Elysande saw his eyes glistening even in the darkness of the room, tears he was refusing to let fall. “I love you. I have always loved you, even when I could not show it. Even when Father made it clear that showing affection was weakness, that caring about anyone was a vulnerability to be exploited, I loved you. Every moment we were forced apart, every dinner where we sat at opposite ends of the table and pretended to be strangers, every birthday and holiday that passed without acknowledgment, I loved you through all of it.”

Reagan made a sound that was half sob, half gasp, her hand coming up to cover her mouth again. The tears were falling freely now, tracking silver paths down her cheeks, but she made no move to wipe them away. Elysande was practically willing her husband in her mind to finally give in to his desires; hug the woman.

“Oh, my boy.” The words tore out of Reagan like they had been trapped inside her for decades, fighting to be free. “Oh, my sweet, precious boy. I should have… I could not…”

No explanation to what she was trying to get at was needed, for with the meaning alone, tears finally began to spill down Noah’s cheeks despite his best efforts to contain them. He finished for her. “Whatever you did, Father would have found out. He always found out. And he would have punished us both, found some way to make it hurt even more. I was trying to protect you. We were trying to protect each other.”

Reagan closed the remaining distance between them terrifyingly fast, finally gathering Noah against her chest like she had wanted to do for years. He went rigid for just a moment, decades of conditioning screaming that this was dangerous, that affection was weakness, that loving someone only gave your enemies ammunition to use against you.

And then he broke.

Noah collapsed into his mother's embrace like a puppet whose strings had been cut, his arms coming up to wrap around her with boyish desperation. His face pressed into her shoulder, and Elysande could see his whole body shaking with sobs he could no longer contain. Years of grief and loneliness and desperate, starving love poured out of him in great heaving waves, and Reagan held him through all of it, her own tears streaming down her face as she rocked him gently back and forth.

She was already murmuring into his hair, her voice tainted with tears but firm in its conviction. “I am here, my darling. I am here, and I am not going anywhere. I am so sorry, Noah. I am so sorry I was not stronger, that I let him keep us apart, that I did not fight harder to be the mother you deserved. I am so sorry.”

“It was not your fault.” Noah's voice barely reached Elysande’s ears, muffled against his mother’s shoulder and broken by sobs that kept interrupting his words. “He would have... if you had defied him, he would have hurt you. I could not let him hurt you because of me.”

“And I could not let him hurt you.” Reagan pulled back just enough to cup his face in her hands, tilting his head up so she could look into his eyes. Her thumbs brushed away the tears that stained his cheeks. “We were both so busy trying to protect each other that we forgot we could have been protecting each other together.”

Noah let out a sound that might have been a laugh if it were not so saturated with grief, and he shook his head slightly. “We are a fine pair, are we not?”

Reagan smiled through tears of her own, beautifully broken and wholly genuine. “But we are still here. We are still alive, and we still have time. Not as much as I would like, perhaps, but some. Enough to start again, if you will let me.”

“I want that.” The confession came out fierce and rushed, the declaration of a man who had spent his entire life wanting exactly this and never allowing himself to believe it was possible. “I want... I want you to know your grandchild. I want you to be part of our lives, really part of them, not just the distant, formal presence Father allowed. I want…”

He could not finish the sentence. The emotion was too overwhelming, the hope too fragile to be spoken aloud. But Reagan seemed to understand anyway, because she pulled him close again, pressing a kiss to his forehead the way she must have done when he was a baby, before Florian had taught him that love was a liability.

“I want that too,” she whispered against his hair. “More than anything. I want to hold your child in my arms, to sing them the lullabies I was never allowed to sing to you, to be the grandmother I always dreamed of being. I want to watch you become a father and know that you will be everything your own father was not. I want all of it, Noah. Every moment I was denied, I want to make up for now.”

Elysande sat quietly in her chair by the fireplace, tears streaming down her own face as she watched mother and son find their way back to each other. She thought about all the things Noah had told her over the months of their marriage, all the small revelations about his childhood that had painted such a bleak picture of isolation and emotional starvation. The walls he had built around his heart, the defences he had constructed to protect himself from the kind of love that could be weaponised against him… They were all crumbling now, broken down not by force but by the simple, overwhelming power of a mother's love finally being allowed to exist.

All along, every time she had tried to fix him, Noah had not needed just her love, though that was essential too. It was not just the support of Nicholas and Joakim and the others who had become his chosen family that he relied on. He had needed this: the original wound, the first and deepest of all his hurts, finally beginning to heal. He had needed his mother to fight her way through the barriers Florian had erected between them and remind him that he had always been loved.

After a long while, the sobs subsided into quieter tears, and eventually even those faded into the occasional hitched breath. Noah and Reagan remained wrapped around each other, neither seeming willing to be the first to let go, and Elysande understood that this was not a moment she should interrupt. She was content to be a silent witness, a guardian of this fragile new beginning.

Eventually, Reagan seemed to become aware of her presence again. She looked up, meeting Elysande's eyes over Noah's shoulder, a gratitude, perhaps, for whatever role Elysande had played in bringing Noah to this point, passed between them. Or maybe a recognition of a shared mission: the protection and nurturing of this man who had been starved of love for so long.

“Thank you,” Reagan said softly, startling Noah enough to lift his head and follow his mother’s gaze to where his wife sat patiently to one side.

“You do not need to thank me,” Elysande replied, her voice equally soft. “He is my husband. Loving him is not a sacrifice; it is a privilege.”

Reagan's smile widened at that, Noah releasing her enough that now Elysande could see her shoulders were straighter than before. “I have told you before but it bears repeating. For all his faults, my husband chose well, when he chose you. I knew it from the moment I saw you together at the wedding. I knew you were going to save him.”

“We saved each other,” Elysande corrected gently. “That is what love is supposed to be, is it not? Two people, holding each other up when the world tries to knock them down.”

Noah looked then, with tear stained cheeks, between the two women in his life, his wife and his mother, and a sense of completeness settled in his expression. Recognition that he was no longer fighting this battle alone.

“Stay,” he turned back to Reagan then, his voice still rough from crying. “Please. Just... stay for a while longer. I am not ready for you to go.”

Reagan pressed a kiss to his forehead, tender and full of promise. “I am not going anywhere, my darling. Not tonight, and not ever again. I have wasted too many years keeping my distance. I will not waste another moment.”

They settled eventually, the three of them, into contented relaxation separate to what was going on outside the walls. Reagan took one of the chairs near the fire, and Noah sat on the floor at her feet, his head resting against her knee as she carded her fingers through his hair with absent affection. Elysande stayed on the settee, but she pulled her legs up on the cushions so that she could tilt her body towards the two and watch their reunion in full.

They talked for hours, soft conversations that wandered from memory to memory, filling in gaps and correcting misunderstandings and simply being together in a way they had never been allowed before. Reagan told Elysande stories of Noah's infancy, the few precious years before Florian had begun his campaign of separation. Noah in return shared fragments of his childhood that he had never spoken aloud, moments of loneliness and confusion and anguish.

And through it all, Elysande watched with a full heart and tears that kept threatening to spill. This was healing. This was what it looked like when wounds that had festered for decades finally began to close. It would not be easy, she knew. There would be setbacks and difficulties and the ever present shadow of Florian's malevolence to contend with until he could be accurately disposed of. But this was a start.

This was a foundation upon which something new and beautiful could be built.

Eventually, the sky outside the windows began to lighten, the deep black of night giving way to the grey of approaching dawn. Reagan stirred from her chair, a rueful smile crossing her face as she registered the time.

“I should go,” she said reluctantly. “Before the servants begin their rounds, and my absence is noted. Your father…” She trailed off slowly, but the meaning was clear enough.

Noah nodded, understanding without needing to press, and rose to his feet, taking his mother's hands in his. “But this will not be the last time. Now that we have found each other again, I will not let him separate us. Not again.”

Reagan squeezed his hands one final time. “I will hold you to that promise, my son.”

She turned to leave, then paused at the door, looking back at both of them with an newfound determination, as if this moment and the revelations had ignited a new determination within her weary soul.

“Take care of each other,” she said softly. “And take care of my grandchild. I have a great deal of time to make up for, and I intend to spoil them absolutely rotten.”

Then she was gone, slipping out into the corridor with Joakim's silent escort, leaving Noah and Elysande alone in the pale light of dawn.

Noah stood motionless for a long moment, staring at the closed door as though he could still see his mother through the solid wood. Then he turned to Elysande, the look on his face nearly breaking her heart all over again. In one night, a burden he had carried since childhood had finally been lifted from his shoulders. There was, despite all the events of the tiresome day, an element of hope in his gaze.

“Thank you,” he said, crossing to the bed where Elysande had already begun to settle and taking her hands in his. “For letting us have that. For understanding what I needed, even when I did not understand it myself.”

“You do not need to thank me.” Elysande pulled him down beside her, tucking herself against his chest as the first true rays of sunlight began to peek through the windows. “She is your mother. She loves you. You both deserved to finally know that, to finally feel it.”

“I feel it now.” His arms tightened around her, holding her close. “For the first time in my life, I truly feel it.”

They lay together in the growing light, husband and wife, soon to be parents themselves, and for the first time in a very long while, the future did not seem quite so terrifying, even if it loomed over their heads like a storm cloud.

There were still battles to be fought. Florian was still out there, still determined to destroy everything they had built. The coronation waved threateningly on the horizon, bringing with it dangers they could not yet fully anticipate.

But they were not alone. They had each other, and Nicholas, and Joakim, and Margaret, and Eliza. And now they had Reagan too, finally freed from the prison of forced distance, ready to fight alongside them for the family they all deserved.

With less than a month to go before everything changed irrevocably, the fight within them all was starting to ignite. And for just a moment, even if foolish, there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

Elysande closed her eyes, listening to the steady beat of Noah's heart beneath her ear, and allowed herself to hope.

a/n: WELL. LONG TIME NO SEE! this isn’t proofread because i was impatient xxx

long story short without getting into it all, had a family bereavement, moved countries, started a new job😀 all within three months. it was a lot. ANYWAYS BACK NOW! within reason. i still find being active on tumblr hard but i will not be abandoning anything!!!

before i say anything else, a couple of huge thank yous to a few people!

first of all, the amazing @r3prise who made a beautiful moodboard for this story that you can find here! isn’t it just gorgeous, i’m truly so grateful <3

and secondly, made my absolute jaw drop, but the SUPER talented @dominuslunae drew ELYSANDES WEDDING DRESS!!! based on my description😭😭😭 literally in tears every time i look at this, so here it is for you all to see (with permission ofc) because i am in awe

and finally thank you to the wonderful hedy for helping me find the banner pic!!!

to anyone who ever has any thoughts prompted by this silly little story, it really does mean the world to me that you all share them with me. it’s been a hard few months and coming on to see all this made my heart explode🤍

i hope this was somewhat worth the wait. two more chapters to go. one main one gigantic epilogue! they’re both big ones so be patient with me (coronation is already at 20k words unedited eek). promise i won’t leave it four months this time🤍 next chapter is the coronation eeeee

anyways fuck florian who agrees

love, aura xx

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