#midnightreign

Marcus cleared his throat.

“Quite a pleasant evening.”

“Quite.” Elise pursed her lips. Marcus nodded to himself, hands tucked behind his back as he kept pace with her.

“The chrysanthemums are blooming beautifully.” He noted. Elise hummed in acknowledgement.

Marcus folded.

“Alright,” He raised a hand to massage his forehead. Elise finally glanced at him, one eyebrow raised.

“I apologize for making such a brash suggestion. I understand that it was far from proper of me to place something so life changing on you so suddenly.” Her expression was unreadable. Perhaps his apology was not sufficient.

“Please do not feel obligated to answer the question.” He added.

She was silent still. He grew a bit more flustered.

“And if we could return to the way things were-” 

“I would have conditions.” She spoke at last, her voice quiet. Marcus blinked.

“You would have conditions?” He repeated, not quite sure he understood.

She would have conditions in regards to returning to the way things were? Surely that was what she meant. But what could she possibly ask that-

“You would expect me to adhere to the expectations of high society. To learn all of your asinine rules. Would you not?” She spoke again. Marcus nearly tripped over a stone in the path.

Conditions for marrying him.

“I imagine so, yes.” He answered honestly. Elise nodded, as if she’d suspected as much.

“If I am to learn your ways, then you are to learn mine.” She said.

“How do you mean?” Marcus frowned.

“You learn to defend yourself. I would train you personally.” Elise’s grip on the hilt of her sword tightened a fraction.

Marcus tried not to react. He tried not to outwardly display what an awful idea it was. He was easily the last person in the kingdom that should be consigned to such physical tasks. It could be dangerous, deadly.

There wasn’t time to dwell on it.

“Once I am Queen, the new Captain of the Guard will be ill-suited to protect you. No one is as skilled as I am.” Marcus tried not to react in an off-putting manner. But he felt more than a little giddy hearing her say the word with such certainty.

It quickly drowned out the logic that had resided over his thoughts previously.

“Alright. What else?” He murmured.

“You said you wanted an equal.” Elise reminded him. Marcus nodded once.

“I do.” He concurred.

“In everything?” She clarified. He nodded once more, brow slightly furrowed.

“I would have an equal say in how the kingdom is run? In how our relations with other nations are handled?”

“Yes.” If anything, he’d like her to have more of a say than him. She had better strategies, brighter ideas. He would hand over the reins to everything if she happened to ask.

“I would have an equal say in how the household is run? And you would have an equal share in caring for children?” It caught him a bit more off-guard than he’d care to admit.

The idea of children. Children with her. Their children.

“Yes.” His face felt a bit warm.

“My word carries the same weight as yours?” She continued. And he took a moment, took a slightly deeper breath.

“Yes.” Elise stopped walking.

“You hesitated.” She noted. Marcus stopped next to her, forcing himself to meet her gaze.

He had never had a true equal before. He had never seen a relationship such as the one that she was describing. A new queen with the same power as the reigning king. It was a bit troubling, to think that soon enough his response would no longer be the only final say.

But then she must have been even more troubled, to leave the position she had worked all her life for and take this risk. To enter into this partnership knowing very well that she could lose all of her independence, all of herself.

This was the very least that he could grant her.

“Your word carries the same weight as mine.” He said, holding her gaze. Her eyes bore into his, searching for so much as a flicker of dishonesty.

“I agree to all of your terms. And I would adapt each ordinance to confer unto your position all power that you have asked.” He doubled down. And he made the mental note to consult with whoever he had to to see it done immediately.

Elise tilted her head a bit, studying him for the longest moment of his life.

He thought about what Inez had said. He thought about saying more, about spilling everything. Honesty, full truths. She should know it all before she agreed or disagreed. He should-

“Alright.” Elise said. Marcus blinked.

“Alright?” He reached to straighten his un-crooked crown.

“I accept.” She wouldn’t look him in the eye as she said it. Marcus couldn’t breathe for a moment, barely processing the fact that she had truly just accepted.

He reached for the pocket of his cloak. He brought out the ornate box very carefully, watching her reaction closely as he did so.

“May I?” He murmured as he pried it open. Elise gave a curt nod, her lips pressed into a thin line.

She held out her left hand. She watched him pluck the ring out of the box. She watched him slide the band over her finger.

Scars marring her skin, dirt under her nails. It was not the hand of a queen.

She stared at the ring as he drew back, almost as if its weight was much greater than a simple band of gold and a glittering jewel.

The weight of a shackle, perhaps.

“I’ll inform the cook at once. We’ll have a proper celebration at dinner.” She only looked away as he raised her hand to his lips, kissing the ring over her finger.

“Elise?” She cleared her throat, drawing back her hand when he finally let it go. She closed her hand into a fist and squeezed it as she tucked it behind her back.

Elise didn’t react. She didn’t let a single thing about herself change. Not her expression, not her posture, not the tension in her hands where they were folded behind her back. She watched him watch her for a moment, waiting for something. Anything.

Her gaze drifted back down to the ring in its box on the table between them, the jewel at its center glittering and casting rays of light across the room as it captured the morning sun.

“May I speak freely?” She said at last, her voice steady.

The king spread his arms slightly, expression as kind and passive as ever. It only served to set her further on edge.

“Please,” He was almost smiling, the warmth in his eyes gleaming more than the ring in its box. It set something rather dreadful churning in her stomach.

“I thought that you of all people respected me.” She forced all sense of emotion out of her voice. She was irritated to find it more difficult than usual.

His expression fell.

“I have the utmost respect for you.” He replied. Quiet. Soft. Sincere.

“No.” His brow furrowed slightly. She didn’t want to notice the tiny new wrinkles. But she did.

“No?” He frowned. Elise’s shoulders lifted ever so slightly.

“If you held any sort of respect for me, you would not ask this of me.” Calm, collected. Always a soldier.

“I don’t understand.” He stretched one hand across the table, reaching towards the box. He studied her strangely, as if he wanted to piece together exactly what she was thinking one micro expression at a time.

Elise’s jaw clenched.

“You would have me sacrifice my position, my title, my freedom so that you might have a wife and the means to an heir?” It was the first time she let any emotion escape. It wasn’t quite intentional, but she figured it would serve to get her point across.

Marcus’s gaze was glued to the box as he pulled it closer to himself. His face flushed ever so slightly.

“That’s not really what I had in mind.” He murmured. Elise raised an eyebrow, her armor creaking as she leaned forward a bit.

“You had none of those things in mind?” She didn’t believe it. The king shook his head slightly, still studying the box. He ran his fingers over the edges, deep in thought for a moment.

“I mean I guess- I guess you couldn’t be Captain of the Guard anymore.” He conceded, “-But we could change things, you could still-”

“And why would anything need to change? Why do you need it to be me?” She pressed rather harshly. Anyone else might have received a proper punishment. She knew better than to speak over the king.

But she had thought that he knew better than to demean her in such a way.

He was quiet again. Contemplative. He slowly drew his gaze up from the ring to study her once more.

“I thought you might understand.” He said, quiet once more.

“You would be my wife. But you would also be my partner. You would be our queen.” The warmth was almost worse. She would rather he shout back.

Hearing him speak of such a mortifying fantasy with such reverence made her feel indescribably ill.

He couldn’t do this to her. He couldn’t ask this of her. Why was he doing this to her? 

“I need you at my side, not beneath me. I need an equal. I need someone wise with the will to make the calls that we both know I am troubled to make.” He slid the box back into place between them and peered at her expectantly.

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand. She understood. She knew that she was incredibly capable of all that being a queen as described might require of her. She knew that she was an obvious choice, someone that he knew he could trust. With his safety and with his kingdom.

But it couldn’t be her. They were not children playing in the garden anymore. She was a soldier, Captain of the Guard. He was the king. He was her king.

Why was he doing this to her?

“Please don’t do this.” She nearly choked on the words. And worse still was the expression on his face after she had gritted them out.

Crestfallen, maybe. He was disappointed. He wanted it to be her. He needed it to be her.

Why?

He could have his pick of any nobles in the kingdom, and he wanted to punish the highest ranking soldier. He wanted to sentence her to a lifetime of ball gowns and royal socials and child rearing because she dared to be a loyal confidant.

It made her blood boil in the strangest of ways. She never wanted to feel that way again.

But he was still looking at her. Still pushing that cursed jewelry box towards her.

“Of course it’s your choice.” He said. And she didn’t really believe him, though she had never known him to be dishonest.

“You asked to see me, Your Majesty?” The royal advisor stood at attention in the doorway, one eyebrow raised. Marcus slumped further in his chair.

“Spare me.” He muttered.

Inez closed the door.

“What’s the matter? It went as poorly as I told you it would?” She assumed the position she usually did at the opposite end of the table, her expression as pinched with distaste as it had been prior.

“She doesn’t understand.” He murmured. He couldn’t look her in the eye, instead focused on the little box before him on the table.

“Yes, I imagine she does not understand, given the fact that you have not been entirely honest with her.” She had her hands folded behind her back, her words as biting as ever.

“You don’t know that I haven’t been honest.” Marcus protested.

Inez was unconvinced.

“So you told her everything, then?” He didn’t respond. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and twisted the box between his fingers.

“As I suspected.” 

Marcus frowned.

“I can’t tell her everything. Then everything would change.” He said, his voice much quieter. Inez sighed.

“Oh, Marcus.” She murmured. And she moved around the side of the table to be closer.

“Everything is already changing. You can’t stop that now.” She stopped at his side and reached for his crown, adjusting it where it had slid a fraction too far to the left.

Marcus glanced up at her slowly, his eyes glistening.

“She believes that I would use her. That I would strip her of her title for my own selfish needs.” She hadn’t seen him so miserable in quite some time.

That did not make her feel particularly inclined to go easy on him.

“Would you not?” He furrowed his brow as he peered at her, unable to understand.

“You can not enter into a partnership of this sort with such secrets and expect it to flourish. Lies of omission are not truths.” Inez drew her hands behind her back once more.

“It’s selfish to share partial truths with her and suggest a union under those terms.” She was particularly displeased to watch as he absorbed her words and they only seemed to harden his expression.

“Then maybe I just need to be a little selfish.” Inez’s eyes narrowed.

There was a knock at the door before she could give him hell for such a comment.

“Yes?” Marcus peered at the door as it opened. A guard poked his head into the room.

“Apologies for the intrusion, Your Majesty.” Marcus waved the apology off.

“The Captain is inquiring as to whether or not His Majesty will be taking his usual stroll around the garden at this time.” The guard delivered his message.

Marcus sat up in his chair, eyes wide.

“She’s waiting for me?” The guard gave a curt nod.

“As always.” Marcus scrambled out of his seat.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll be right there.” He hurried around the table, hesitating at the door to straighten his crown.

“Marcus.” He reluctantly glanced back at her.

“Inez.”

“Tell her everything.” He studied her for a moment. And he wished that he possessed the strength that she seemed to believe him capable of.

But as he wordlessly left the room, there was only one thought ricocheting around in his head.

Pommel strike. Hilt punch. Wide slash.

Something must have changed.

Somewhere in her years spent at his side, something must have changed. She must have given him the wrong impression. Or he must have misunderstood something.

There was something.

Chop. Draw cut. And one last slash for good measure.

The dummy’s head came clean off.

“Captain?” Elise slashed again, then brought her sword back to her side.

“Set another.” Her order was quickly fulfilled, another straw dummy set up on the training stand before the soldier scrambled back.

Elise cried out as she struck the new target with more fervor.

Lady Ira’s ball, she realized as all of the air fled her lungs. The night that she had nearly failed in her duties and cost the kingdom dearly.

She studied her hand where it gripped the hilt of her sword, remembering how numb she had felt. She was forever grateful that Maxine had had the foresight to force her into building a tolerance to the most common toxins found in neighboring kingdoms.

“Is a king not entitled to a moment of privacy?!”

Her grip tightened as she remembered that dreadful woman and her shrill voice. The sound of the hilt of her sword hitting Lady Ira’s skull was not as satisfying as she would have liked. She was far too consumed with ensuring the king’s safety.

“Elise?” 

“Here, Your Majesty.” 

“Elise,” His eyes, so lost. The dark of his eyes nearly drowned out the golden brown entirely. She sheathed her sword, reached to fix his crown where it had been knocked askew.

He raised his hand to reach for hers, his fingers trembling. She let him take it, something squeezing in her chest as she saw him in such a state.

“Marcus,” She murmured, though she knew better. Even with the poison dulling her senses, she knew better.

But she remembered the first time she had ever ingested a toxin of this sort. Or rather, she remembered that she hadn’t remembered much afterward. There was no harm in providing a sliver of comfort that he so clearly needed.

“What’s happening?” 

He must have had some idea, splayed on the chaise with his ironed shirt partially untucked. Maybe that was why he was shaking.

“The Lady has poisoned us both.” He gripped her hand, squeezing as if she was all that was tethering him to the world.

“You’re safe now.” She was not gentle, but she tried.

Was that why he had made this choice? Because he remembered? Because he misunderstood?

Or perhaps it was simply the fact that he no longer felt safe seeking a queen in an outsider. There was no more mingling at a ball without fearing that every refreshment might be tainted. No more benefit of the doubt for potential suitors. Any one of them might attempt to force their way onto the throne as she had.

Elise slashed at the dummy again.

“Stay with me.” Her hand slipped away, her duties pulling her elsewhere. They must secure safe travels back to the palace.

“You will never be unguarded again.” An honest assurance.

But he caught her hand. And he squeezed desperately.

Like they were children crossing the brook in search of frogs. Like the prince oh so frightened by garden snakes and jagged stones.

“You. Just you.” 

Not an order. A quiet plea.

Elise slashed harder than before and slammed the hilt of her sword into the dummy’s battered chest. She cried out as she was faced with another realization that she was so desperately trying to bury.

She didn’t want to go through it again, either. They had not left the palace since the incident. She dreaded each invitation that came through the gate, certain that she would be forced to save him from ill-meaning suitors until he finally settled on someone.

And even then, the question would remain. What if he chose wrong? What if she was as conniving as the rest? What if she brought war to their borders, chaos to their kingdom?

What if she hurt him?

Elise decapitated the new dummy with one last powerful slash.

It was her duty to protect the king. Her sole purpose. She had been raised, shaped in such a way in order to keep him safe. And this was not something that she could ever protect him from.

“Captain? Another?” Elise didn’t respond, staring off into space as it processed slowly.

She could not wholly protect him from potential suitors or a future queen.

“One two three, one two three, one two three, one-” Elise gritted her teeth as she made a misstep and knocked her shoe into Marcus’s.

“Wrong foot.” Inez called as she stopped the count.

“I noticed.” Elise muttered. She ignored the reassuring smile the king was trying to offer her as he stopped mid-waltz and let his arm drop from her back.

“Starting positions again, please.” Elise positioned her feet together on the floor before his, even more determined than before.

She had learned countless combinations of fighting techniques. And it was a ridiculous but simple dance that had her perplexed. She refused. She was going to figure it out.

It wasn’t any different than learning a new fighting style, not really. It was all about balance and foot placement. The only major difference was that she had to worry about more than just her own movement.

“You’re doing great.” Marcus whispered to her. Elise’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t patronize me.” She was still studying their feet, missing the expression that crossed his face at that.

“I wasn’t-” Inez started the count again before he could say anything further.

“One two three, one two three, one two three, one two three,” Her expression pinched in distaste as they started back up.

“The king should be leading.” She noted. Elise was already gritting her teeth again.

High society etiquette was so stupid.

“Then maybe the king should lead.” She growled, because he hadn’t exactly done so when given the opportunity. She stopped waltzing and dropped her arms from his.

“I don’t mind if she leads.” Marcus spoke softly.

“It’s improper.” Inez tsked. Marcus frowned, though he didn’t speak up again.

“Starting positions.” Elise tensed as he brought his hand to rest over her shoulder blade again. She reluctantly raised her own arms.

And this time, she didn’t move until he did.

“One two three, one two three, one two three,”

“Try to relax.” Marcus murmured. Elise only tensed more.

“I am relaxed.”

“It’s okay if you don’t get it tonight.” He tried again.

“We’ve mere days until the ball.” Inez interrupted her count just to correct him. Marcus flashed her a sheepish smile.

“No pressure.” He whispered.

“Stop talking.” Elise grumbled.

“One two three, one two three, one two-” Maybe she would have had it already, if they’d stop distracting her. If they’d stop putting so much constant pressure on her.

Which fork went where and which fork should be used for each course and the proper hand placement for utensils and tea cups and glasses and the form for a proper curtsy and what to say to whom and-

Elise misstepped. And the rest of her body followed. This included her head, the top of which promptly smacked right into the king’s nose.

“Careful!” Inez gasped, as if Elise had just sliced at him with a broadsword. Elise took a few steps back, an apology on the tip of her tongue.

“Ow.” Marcus had raised both hands to cover his nose.

“Your Majesty?” Inez rushed towards him with far more urgency than the situation seemed to require. She drew one of the king’s hands back just enough to glimpse the blood already sliding down his face.

“I’ll call for the royal physician.” Elise was still frozen in place when Inez glanced over at her.

She hadn’t meant to harm him. Of course she would never harm him. And she wished for him to be well. Even so, it was a bit jarring to see such an extreme reaction to something so mundane.

Elise had taken countless hits to the nose. She’d won plenty of battles with blood gushing down her face. She’d hardly even acknowledge the throbbing and the heat and the discomfort.

She had teased the king about his fragility before. It was part of the reason she had insisted on training him personally, though they had yet to start lessons.

The gibes felt less comical now that she found herself watching him crumble after just one accidental hit. Not even enough force to knock the crown from his head.

“That’s quite enough for tonight.” Inez said rather sharply. Elise pursed her lips.

“His Majesty requires a physician for a nosebleed?” She raised an eyebrow. Inez’s expression hardened.

She had a hand on Marcus’s shoulder, the other offering him a handkerchief that was already starting to absorb the outpour of red.

“I said that’s enough for tonight.” She reiterated, no room for question in her tone. Elise glanced between the two of them.

She understood what was really being said, then. Dance lessons were over and the king’s common-born betrothed was dismissed. The situation no longer required her lesser presence. Leave, interloper, she might as well have said.

Elise’s hands clenched into fists at her sides.

“Fine.” She turned to push through the ballroom doors and storm back to her quarters.

Marcus stretched a bloody hand out, as if to reach for her.

“Elise-” She did not glance back.