#dutyuntodeath

      ❝ I think I’m showing a little. ❞ The bump is too small to be distinguishable under the rich fabrics of her dress but she can tell. Her hands ghost over it hesitantly. She’s not looking forward to the way her body is going to change in the next many weeks. She’s not too fond of all the other symptoms, either; she could definitely do without the sickness. But the way Cal sinks to his knees in front of her with the biggest smile on his lips and presses a kiss to her lower stomach gives her pause. Seeing him this happy makes her chest swell with joy and pride; she’s the reason of such happiness; she and their unborn child. ❝ It’s still tiny. What are you going to be like when I’m even bigger? ❞ She teases running her fingers through his dark hair.

His chuckle resonates through her as he stands, one hand on her belly caressing the small bump. ❝ Maybe it’s time to share the good news? ❞ His eagerness shows in his kiss. It’s the second time he’s asked. She can’t blame him for wanting everyone to know; she does, too. The court would stop whispering behind her back and coveting her throne and husband for their daughters. Her pregnancy would give them something new to obsess over and let Cal make his plans and rule without having to dodge claims about the succession and lack of an heir. 

        But there’s something holding her back. ❝ Not yet? ❞ Thoughts of his mother come to her mind and she shudders. Evangeline would prefer to wait before making the announcement rather than lose a child with the court’s eyes on her. ❝ I want to be sure. Wren says the first three months are the most dangerous. ❞ Her voice drops, dark eyes meeting his amber ones, and she can tell he understands because the happiness in them dulls for a moment.

          ❝ Three months. We’re almost there, right? ❞ He beams again and Evangeline is relieved that they won’t have to argue over this.

        ❝ Ye- ❞ The door flies open without so much as a knock and she almost sends daggers flying at the Sentinel’s head for the intrusion. Their bubble bursts and she can feel them both squaring their shoulders — a king and queen now, as they turn to face the man who’s struggling to breathe behind his mask. He ran here. The realisation makes her stand straighter; the look in her eyes even more severe than before.

        ❝ Forgive me, Majesties. The Council- An alarm was raised. Silver. ❞ An alarm means death or an attack. Someone is dead. Someone important. Silver stands for the High Houses. Black is for the king and his family. The news should have elicited at least a gasp from her, or some other sign of distress, but she’s trained to not react; to compartmentalise everything so that the image of ultimate power is not tempered. It’s all she’s known and it works. A queen of ice; a queen of STEEL. That’s what Norta needs — THEY are what Norta needs; an unbreakable king and queen.

        The walk from their chambers is a short one; Cal sets a quick pace that she struggles a bit to match. She would remark on it if she hadn’t noticed how rigid his form is; how tense his shoulders are and she knows there is a deep crease between his eyebrows. Evangeline enters the situation room seconds after her husband. Generals and officers bow their heads; they’re as severe as ever. No one wishes to be the bearer of bad news, especially to the king.  Their eyes linger on her for a second too long before Cal urges them on with a wave of his hand.

       ❝ A transport was taken down- ❞

       ❝ Cargo or troops?❞ Both important, the loss of either is a blow but lives; SILVER lives matter more than some crates of guns and equipment. Evangeline’s eyes scan the monitors behind the general but she can’t make out any details. The maps only mark the location and time of the attack.

      ❝ Troops, your Majesty. Three aircrafts from Delphie were shot out of the sky. We don’t kn-❞

       ❝ My brother is flying in today. ❞ The words come out of her lips before the connection can register in her brain. From Delphie. Ptolemus is flying in from Delphie today. Tolly is — Eyes plead with the general, hands already shaking, metal scales on her dress pulsing frantically matching her heartbeat. Say I’m wrong! Tell me he’s alive! The woman only lowers her gaze and the knife that has been dangling over her heart plunges deep and twists and twists, ❝ There were no survivors. My sincerest condolences, your Majesty.❞

            Tolly.

    ❝ N O ! ❞ Her hand slams on the long table sending a shock through the entire room. It’s not just the metal of her dress that’s drumming in tune with her frenzy of a heartbeat now. Monitors, cables, even the medals on the general’s chest seem ready to bounce and pierce right through her body. The room could turn into a metal death trap at any moment. ❝ My brother can control all three of those aircrafts mid-air. More than three, if need be. He could land them safely even if they were hit spiralling down the sky. Metal is his to command— ❞ It can’t possibly become the means of his death; his coffin. ❝ My brother is NOT d e a d . I’ll have your head for this! ❞

         It’s only thanks to Cal whose hand comes to rest on her shoulder that she regains some semblance of control. Enough to not let her emotions ran wild. She takes her eyes from the general — if she keeps looking at her lowered gaze, she’s certain she’ll snap — and turns to look at Cal expecting him to be equally enraged by this outrageous claim.  But his eyes aren’t filled with rage or defiance; there’s sadness there, concern and well-disguised pity. It makes her skin crawl. ❝ No. He’s not dead. ❞ She declares with a shake of her head doing her best to dismiss any thoughts of the opposite. The look Cal is giving her isn’t helping. It’s true, Evie. They wouldn’t dare make a mistake about this. He squeezes her shoulder when she makes to shake her head again. He knows her well. He knows that’s the only sign of comfort she’d allow in the middle of a room filled with Nortan generals and officers. It’s pointless to fight this. It’s the truth.

          Tolly.

   ❝ The bodies are being flown in as we speak.❞ If that was spoken in an effort to comfort her, it failed miserably. It did, however, serve as a reminder of where she was; who she was and who was there with her. She needs to get out of there; keeping it together is suffocating. She looks around her and all she sees are eyes filled with pity for the grieving queen. You are steel. Steel does not break or bend. But Tolly did; he’s broken and gone and it takes everything she has to not burst into tears. No one can see her like this; she’s the queen. No one can see her crumbling and shrinking,

    Evangeline almost runs outside; she doesn’t even look if Cal follows her. She’s grateful that he doesn’t. Her feet walk on their own accord descending to the lower levels of the palace. She can’t face the court now; the fewer people that cross her path the better. The doors to the training grounds open wide with a notion of her hand and dozens of eyes land on her. Lordlings and young ladies, instructors, guards.                    ❝ GET OUT! ALL OF YOU! GET OUT! NOW!❞     They hurry to make themselves scarce fearful of what the queen might do if they don’t follow her orders. In a matter of seconds, she’s alone. The silence was supposed to help but it makes everything worse. She barely manages to stay on her feet when it all hits her. If hearing the news felt like a single knife, the realisation feels like she’s being torn apart. Torn from every direction.

       Ptolemus. Dead. Her brother is dead. The one who was always at her side, always protecting her. The first person she loved; the first person that loved her and would continue to love her no matter what. He’s— gone. She explodes. The walls around her ripple and crack, whole pieces of metal are being ripped from the training grounds in a violent display of the rampage her powers can create. She screams and the palace seems to shake — same way a banshee shatters glass with their voice. Iron rods run through the structure like veins; there’s metal in every wall and she feels every single once of it. Like an earthquake, maybe she’ll bring the whole building down. 

         ❝ EVANGELINE! ❞     Cal’s voice usually is more than enough to snap her back into reality but this time it does nothing. It doesn’t even register that he’s standing at the doors watching her unravel. ❝ Evangeline, STOP! ❞ His voice is getting closer now; she can imagine him melting the metal that gets in his way to get to her — so brave, she can easily run him through without even realising it. Tears cloud her vision but she can make out parts of his face. He grabs her arms; his skin hotter than usual, it burns her flesh. She hisses at him and tries to shake the grip he has on her but he’s too strong. ❝ Hey! I said STOP! That’s ENOUGH. You’re going to hurt the baby! Stop! ❞

 At that, she goes still — the baby; their baby — she stops fighting him, she lets go of the chaos around her. ❝ Stop.❞ He repeats again and again; his voice and hands gentler once he sees that he’s broken through to her. She jumps at the deafening noise the jagged pieces of metal make as they come down, no longer under her control or lack of it.