Chapter 84
The first time it happened, she ignored it.
She had been walking through the palace corridors, heading toward the council chambers, when the floor beneath her seemed to tilt. Her vision wavered for just a breath of a second, her pulse hammering harder than it should have been.
She gritted her teeth and kept walking, refusing to acknowledge the sensation.
It was nothing.
The second time, she nearly stumbled while descending the stairs leading to the royal gardens. A guard lurched forward to catch her, but she waved him off before he could touch her.
"Your Majesty-"
"I'm fine," she snapped, more sharply than she intended.
The dizziness passed quickly, but a bitter taste filled her mouth.
She wasn't fine.
The fatigue crept in slowly, steadily, no matter how much she slept. She hated it.
She hated feeling weak.
For weeks, she had fought to hold onto her sense of self.
She had fought to ensure that she was not just a vessel for an heir, that she was still a ruler, still Aeliana.
But what kind of queen struggled to walk down a flight of stairs?
She clenched her jaw, forcing herself forward, as if sheer willpower could keep the world from slipping out from under her feet.
Tharx noticed, of course.
He always noticed.
At first, he said nothing, but his golden eyes were watchful, tracking her movements with a carefulness that made her skin prickle.
He adjusted his stance whenever he walked beside her-just slightly, as if bracing himself to catch her if she faltered.
She didn't know whether to be grateful or furious.
And then, on the fifth night, she woke gasping for breath.
Her body was too warm, her chest tight, as if something heavy had settled over her in the night. She pressed a trembling hand against her stomach, struggling to breathe, struggling to shake off the strange fog that clung to her mind.
Tharx was beside her in an instant.
His hand slid over hers, steady, unshaken. "Aeliana."
Her vision blurred, her throat dry. "I-"
"Slow," he murmured, his voice lower now, measured, grounding.
She followed the command without thinking, inhaling deeply, exhaling slower.
The dizziness **faded-**but the weight in her chest did not.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, quietly, she muttered, "This is unbearable."
Tharx's fingers tightened over hers. "Your body is changing."
"Then my body is betraying me," she said bitterly.
Tharx's lips twitched at that, though there was no amusement in his expression. "You are carrying an heir. It is a burden not even I can share."
Her stomach twisted.
It was true.
For the first time in her life, this was something she had to endure alone.
And she hated it.
The next morning, she forced herself out of bed before Tharx could tell her to rest.
The dizziness returned before she even left their chambers.
She caught herself against the edge of a table, sucking in a sharp breath, waiting for the room to steady.
Tharx was watching.
She could feel his gaze on her before he spoke. "You are pushing yourself too hard."
She straightened, ignoring him. "I have work to do."
"Aeliana."
She turned, eyes burning. "If you tell me to rest again, I swear-"
His head tilted slightly. "I was not going to say rest."
She blinked.
Then, suspiciously, "Then what were you going to say?"
Tharx stepped closer, golden eyes searching her face. "You are afraid."
Aeliana scoffed. "I am exhausted, not afraid."
His gaze didn't waver. "You are afraid that this makes you weak."
She felt the words like a knife.
And the worst part?
He was right.
She turned away before he could see the war in her expression.
A heavy silence stretched between them.
Then, softer now, Tharx murmured, "You are not weak."
Aeliana closed her eyes.
If only she could believe him.
The doubts crept in slowly.
She had never thought of herself as a mother.
She had never pictured this life, this path.
"I was not meant for this."
The thought sat heavy in her chest, dark and unshakable.
She had always fought battles with words, with wit, with sheer resilience.
But how did one fight motherhood?
How did one rule when they could barely get through the day without feeling like the world was tilting beneath them?
What if she was terrible at this?
What if she couldn't protect her child?
What if she wasn't enough?
That night, when she lay beside Tharx, she let out a slow breath, staring at the ceiling.
His arm was draped over her waist, his body warm against hers.
He was awake.
She could tell by the way his breathing was just slightly too measured, by the way his grip on her was just slightly too tight.
"Are you waiting for me to pass out again?" she muttered.
A low huff of laughter. "Would it ease your worries if I said no?"
She nudged him with her elbow.
He caught her wrist before she could pull away, twisting her hand in his grip, tracing his thumb over her palm.
The touch was softer than it should have been.
Aeliana swallowed.
Then, quietly, hesitantly-"Do you ever wonder if you'll be good at this?"
She had never spoken the fear out loud before.
She hadn't meant to now.
But Tharx didn't mock her, didn't dismiss it.
He was silent for a long moment.
Then, so quietly she almost missed it-
"I was never meant to love."
Aeliana's breath hitched.
Tharx's grip on her hand tightened, just slightly.
"I was never meant to have a family," he continued. "Never meant to care about anything but war."
She turned her head, watching him in the dim candlelight.
He was staring at the ceiling, his expression unreadable.
"But you," he murmured, almost to himself. "You changed everything."
Aeliana swallowed.
Her pulse pounded in her ears.
Tharx wasn't a man who spoke of feelings. Not like this.
She had seen him angry, ruthless, unwavering in his rule.
But this?
This was vulnerability.
A kind of honesty he had never offered to anyone else.
Aeliana turned fully now, pressing a hand to his chest.
"You were never meant to love," she echoed softly. "And yet, here we are."
His golden eyes finally met hers.
Something flickered there.
Something raw.
His hand slid up, threading through her hair, pulling her closer.
"You are everything I never knew I needed," he murmured.
Her breath caught.
Her fingers curled against his skin.
"Tharx-"
He cut her off with a kiss.
It was not gentle.
It was not soft.
It was possessive, desperate, unyielding.
A claim. A vow.
She melted into him, letting herself be consumed, letting herself forget-for just a moment-that the weight of the empire sat on her shoulders.
That the weight of motherhood sat on her chest.
That the future was uncertain.
Because in this moment, in this bed, she was not just a queen carrying an heir.
She was Aeliana.
And he was hers.
And together, they would figure out the rest.