The Thoughts of the Queen

Danele was curled up in the window seat in her quarters, covered in a luxurious sable laprobe. Beneath the fur covering, her hands rested on her belly, while her gaze seemed to be fixed on the scenery beyond the large, surrounding windows. The view from her rooms really was quite stunning, offering a visual feast of the colorful gardens below, and the forest beyond. Yet, she saw none of it. Her mind was too distracted by a thousand other things; namely the recent happenings within the palace, and her own nightmares.

Her husband was in danger. She felt it to the very core of her being. Why else would so many of her dreams show his death? Dreams. She almost laughed aloud at that. They were nightmares, and horrible ones. Watching Wyld’s death at the hands of others, holding him in her arms as he turned to ash and faded away. Even her children had not been spared in her subconscious visions, and it was always the babe she carried that was being taken from her. Yet, at the forefront, was always the figure with no face. He was either masked, cowled, or the face was just… blank. The malevolence rolling from him was unmistakable, and just the thought made a shudder rack her small frame. To speak of the dreams openly would rise whispers of heresy. Magic was forbidden in the kingdom, and even something her Father had often called a ‘gift’ would be viewed as such. She had spoken with Wyld, though did not relay everything she saw. He believed in her, and though he professed belief in the church, secretly, he did not follow all of their edicts. He had never scoffed at her, for which she was eternally grateful. When she awoke shaking, or screaming, he gathered her in his strong arms, pulled her into his lap, and rocked her until she calmed enough to sleep again.

Only recently, she had confided in one another about the cryptic nightmares. Christoph; loyal steward of the Valenti palace. She had discovered his secret years ago when Christoph was still a footman, but had kept her tongue. He would have been sent away, and who was she to reveal something like that? When her knowledge had been revealed to the steward, an undeniable bond between the two had been formed. Christoph was utterly loyal to the family, despite the fact he would never be claimed, and the Queen recognized that. She had told him of her dreams in detail, and he had not balked, nor accused her of crimes against their God. He had trusted her words, taken pain in them, and shared her tears. Even now, she still felt the brush of his damp lips on her hands as he huddled over them, weeping silently. He was as frightened as she was by the recent events, and knew that something, or someone, was trying to harm them all.

Wyld suspected the past was returning to reinact the destruction of the royal family. For the first time ever, she was seeing her husband visibly shaken, and afraid. So much so that he was sending her from the castle to their northern estate. This morning, before they had pulled themselves from the warmth of their bed, and each other’s embrace, she had asked permission to stay at the Varana estate, instead. Only two hours ride from the palace, it would enable quick travel for visits and correspondence. He had kissed her tenderly, promising he would think on the matter. Lately, he had indulged her need for closeness. Normally, dawn would have had him up and going through his morning routine of bathing, dressing, and a morning meal, before he set out to perform his duty. Yet, the past weeks had found him lingering in their bed well past the sunrise, holding her back to his chest, while he gently stroked her swollen belly. His rumbling laughter would tickle her ear when the babe would kick against his Father’s palms, or visibly shift around. She had carried this babe far longer than any others besides Nefertise, and they both were holding their breath, yet in awe of the life within. He wanted nothing to endanger either of them, and for him to send her away meant that he was truly afraid.

She had attempted to argue, but in the end, conceded. How could she ignore the concern in his beautiful gaze? For all of his infidelity, his archaic way of thinking at times, he loved her. She knew that to the very deepest part of her soul, and could never deny it. Even through the wasted years when she had denied him, and he had complied, they still had managed to form an unbreakable bond with one another. They depended on one another, needed one another, in a way that far transcended the normal boundaries of love and marriage. And she was damned near scared to death. She could not help thinking something would happen if she were not there to … protect him. He had promised regular visits, but that did not set her mind anymore at ease. She had seen the fear in his eyes when the ash had been found in his study, and the two bodies discovered. He needed her there, but concern for her and their babe far outweighed that need.
Christoph had given his word to keep an eye on happenings, and send her correspondence. He was investigating the events in his own way, though none would ever know with the exception of Wyld. He had promised to send word if he thought the King needed her. Danele could ask for no more than that. Thankfully, Neferise, Uhtred and Garnett were away, so that was three less to worry over. Synaria and Ilgnuit still remained, though she was going to try to convince her daughter in law to come along, as well. Though she still had mixed thoughts on why Synaria was so prevalent in her dreams, she still loved her, and wanted her safe, regardless. Hopefully, she would agree to come. At least Emersyn was to be there, along with Mereavus. She did not think she could survive without either of those two. Her closest friends and confidantes, they each had been her salvation at different times.

Danele rubbed a hand across her forehead, even as she absently rubbed her belly. She knew not what was to come, but she could not shake the feeling of dread that was almost overwhelming. However, she was determined to protect her family, her love, and her kingdom, at all costs. She would deliver Wyld’s son, watch the joy and pride flow into his smile when he held him for the first time, and then she would grow old at his side, while watching their own grandchildren play in the garden beyond. The sound of heavy footsteps in the hall tore her from her thoughts. She did not have to guess who they belonged to. Before the door opened, she was tossing aside the blanket and sliding from the seat to straighten her gown and pat her hair. Her slippers could wait. He never minded her in just her stockings, anyway. Oft times, it was those, alone, he liked seeing her in. Her breath caught in her throat when he opened the door and stepped in. Immediately, his eyes sought her. That devastating smile of his fell into place, and he crooked a finger, beckoning her to come to him. Most would be affronted by such a simple gesture. She merely smiled and picked up her skirts, hurrying across the carpeted floor into his waiting arms.