A Queen's Loyalty

A gasp tore from her lips, bringing her awake suddenly. There were no lingering vestiges of slumber, no confusion, not even a bit of blurred vision. One moment she had been sleeping soundly, plauged by dreams, and the next, she was alert. A quick glance at the large windows told her it was still night. Another glance, and she was able to see her husband's sleeping form by the dying embers from the fireplace. So peaceful, he appeared, when he allowed himself to rest. In truth, she had given him little choice. His entrance into their quarters the night before had been met with loving eagerness from her. After helping him undress, he had carried her to their bed, and there, she had made sure he would fall to the silken sheets, exhausted. He lay on his side, with one arm draped across her belly; the belly that would soon grow large with another son. He had deemed the child would be male, and would accept no less. He was determined his bloodline would be secure, no matter how he had to do it.

She pushed a tangle of auburn hair from her forehead, then sighed heavily. The dreams were growing more frequent, even coming to her in the daylight hours. For so long, she had gone without them, thinking, happily, that she was rid of the curse. She should have known better. The one she had just been torn from sleep over was most intense. So much so, that she noticed her hand trembling, her heart pounding, and a fine sheen of perspiration glistening on her forehead. God, even the most minute detail was fresh in her mind. However, as always, the dreams were cryptic, never revealing what they were supposed to mean. She closed her eyes, attempting to rid her mind of the images, but they returned all the stronger, until she was replaying the entire thing over again....

She was kneeling in the chapel, sobbing as if her very soul had been shattered. Her belly was large with child, as if she could deliver at any moment. For several moments, she wept into her pale hands, until a comforting arm surrounded her. Surprisingly, it was female, and pulling her against an equally feminine form. Thinking it to be Garnett, or her dear Advisor, Mereavus, she was surprised to see the visage of Synaria. Her face held an expression of sympathy, her lips a tender smile.

"Weep not, dear Mother. This is no time for sorrow. You carry the next heir in your womb," she murmured softly. She placed her dark hand on Danele's swollen abdomen, and rubbed it gently. A tremulous smile rose to the elder's lips. Synaria was right. This was a time for excited anticipation. She was to soon give birth, and give her husband the third, legitimate heir he desired. Just as her hand shifted to rest atop Synaria's, the young woman's hand tightened painfully over her stomach. It seemed to grow, and grow, until it completely covered the large bulge. Danele's eyes widened in shocked pain, gaze flying back to Syn's face in confusion.
Her daughter in law's loving expression had turned to one of calculating maliciousness. The smile, now present, chilled Danele's very blood. She tried to pull away, but the arm surrounding her tightened, threatening to cut off her very breath.
"It had been decided that I will carry the heir, dear Mother. I am afraid you are not worthy."
Before Danele's very eyes, her belly began to shrink, and decrease, even as Synaria's own abdomen grew in size. Within seconds, Synaria carried the Queen's own babe inside of her. She tossed the stunned, terrified woman to the side, and rose to her feet, placing a hand on the large swell. That tender smile returned, though it never reached her eyes. No. Her eyes were cold... dead. Upon her head, she wore Danele's own crown, around her neck, the royal jewels, and was clad in one of the Queen's most beautiful gowns.
"The kingdom now lies in my hands, sweet Mother. The question is, what shall I do with it?"
From behind Synaria, another form emerged, this one definitely male. Only, this one had no face. Where eyes, a nose, a mouth, should have been, there was only darkness. Hia arms surrounded Synaria from behind, hands coming to rest on her belly. Only, those large hands were coated in crimson blood. Her daughter in law looked back, and up, into the darkness and smiled adoringly. Then, both turned their heads back toward Danele. In unison, and with voices that no human could ever possess, they uttered a single word. "Mine." They began to laugh, again, the very sound otherwordly.
The Queen turned to flee the laughter, covering her ears with her hands, unable to stand the sound. Just as she was almost at the door of the chapel, the door that could offer sweet freedom, another figure appeared. It was her husband, and he was covered in his own blood, from his neck to his waist. She gasped in horror, dropping her hands from her head, even as he raised his own in seeming supplication.
"It is Our's, Danele..." he whispered. He dropped to his knees before her. She went down with him, reaching to take his battered body into her arms. He was so cold, yet his blood scorched her very clothing. "Do not let me die..."
Tears began anew, streaming down her cheeks as she tried to find the source of his wounds. The more she searched, the more he seemed to bleed.
"Die with me, or let it be our's," he whispered again.
What did he mean? She could not lose him! This was her husband, her Wyld... she would not lose her babe AND him.
"I will save you," she wept brokenly. Yet, even as her tears bathed his face, he began to shrivel in her embrace, until naught remained but an empty husk of the strong man that was. Without warning, the shell burst into dust, carried away from her by a mighty gust of wind that should have never been....Then, she awoke...

Danele shuddered again after the replay of memory, and instinctively edged closer to the sleeping Wyld. Her dreams were never exact, but she had been possessed with them long enough to know that there was some meaning there. She just had to figure what it was. One thing was for certain; she would protect him, her entire family, at any cost, and God would damn any who stood in her path.