Disturbances

A woman going onto the battlefield, especially one burdened by a life of hardships? It's not something I ever imagined, much less heard of. But what intrigues me even more is not just the fact that she fought, but what she did, and why. For whom did she raise her blade? Who are these Weaver Girls, the guardians of the river, and the Twelve Creators? And what happened during the second war—what could have been so significant that it made her sit out entirely?

The questions swirl in my mind, each one a riddle wrapped in layers of history I can't seem to unravel. Why was she the one who led and won two wars, yet stepped aside for the second? Did something change in her, or was there a deeper strategy at play? My head throbs from the sheer weight of it all, these unanswered mysteries pressing against my skull like a growing storm.

I groan, clutching my temples as if that could somehow force clarity into my mind. There's so much I don't know. But what do I ever know I was unfortunately born with a brainless head, if I had the opportunity to accept and go to the other nobles' invitations for 'tea and cookies' as the claim maybe I would have known about her. Then again there's no point, others like to pursue their favorite book characters as they always think it brings them closer to them even my own brother wanted work as a physician as one of his Idols was one of the most renown helper in the whole lot of Vinsmug, but would I use her as a form of leader I should learn from? she was clearly not a rule follower, and she must have been well educated even without her family she did on her own and even married a dragon... wait.

"She got married to a dragon... and he was the child of the dragon she kept?" I blurt out, my voice rising with disbelief. He smiles at my outburst, amusement flickering in his eyes, but honestly, who wouldn't react the same way? In my defense, I've heard of women fantasizing about being with younger men. They say it 'tastes better,' or at least that's what I've overheard. Even Shyra, one of William's sisters, had an affair with a younger man, and she couldn't stop grinning about it for weeks.

Still, marrying a dragon—especially the son of the dragon she once cared for? That's on a whole other level. My head spins as I try to wrap my mind around it.

"You needn't occupy your little brain with that—it was prophesied, remember?" His voice is gentle, though there's a playful edge to his words. "And she was older than three of the Creators themselves, and five of the Cursed Girls. True, she had to learn the hard way, on her own, but that doesn't mean you should belittle yourself. She was a great person, and nothing will ever change that."

He pauses for a moment, his gaze steady and sincere. "But you will be a great queen, and something will change. Do you know what?" His eyes are full of quiet certainty, as if he's already convinced of something I can't quite grasp yet. He believes in me, even if I can hardly see it in myself. I can feel the weight of his expectations settling over me, but I'm not sure how I can ever be the woman he imagines—this great queen he insists I will become. I shake my head not knowing what is that thing that will change if it comes out as he predicts. "You will be the first greatest queen of perish" he whispers slightly pulling my gown up to my thighs and at this moment I can only thank the pant I placed on this morning.

"Why do you think so high of me" I can't help but ask, the words slipping out before I can stop them. Normally other kings will just want children to continue the legacies but he... he's different. He looks at me as though he sees something more. Most kings wouldn't bother with encouragement, only focused on duty and bloodlines. Yet here he is, speaking of my potential, of my future as a queen, as if it matters beyond just bearing children for the throne. His belief in me feels strange, unfamiliar—like he's asking more from me than just my title or my role in the court.

"Because you are worth thinking high of Saltanat, and there has never been a queen in Perish who as soon as she entered the palace order to meet every of her servant and guards, ask for their name, is concern about their safety and tries to understand and solve her new kingdom problems even if it meant reading mountains of old and unreliable books. so Yeah, you are that high to think of" His words sink in, and for a moment, I'm left speechless. It's hard to reconcile how he sees me with how I've always seen myself.

I don't know how long we've been riding. The rhythmic clatter of hooves and the steady hum of the wheels have lulled me into a trance-like state. Suddenly, a sharp knock rattles the carriage door, startling both of us.

The knight outside clears his throat. "We've arrived, Your Majesty. The tavern," he informs us, his voice muffled but clear enough to break the quiet.

The king shifts beside me, clearly displeased. I catch a glimpse of his face—frustration flickering in his eyes. He had hoped for more time, perhaps to continue without interruption. His disappointment hangs in the air like a heavy cloud, but he remains silent, simply glancing my way before letting out a quiet sigh while reluctantly placing me down on the wooden carriage but I don't understand the feeling in my heart like I hope he will carry me out like the day in the dungeon I somehow felt safe that...

"Your wish are my command but next time I will advise you asking for it" and with no other word he bends on one knee and carries me like the princess I am just the way...

"Queen" she says in a deep voice if I wasn't staring at his face, I wouldn't have known he was annoyed.

"Yes" I whisper, feeling a warmth spread through me as I lean in closer, resting my head on the crook of his neck, The steady rhythm of his heartbeat calms my own fluttering heart. like the Queen I was I thought closing my eyes to feel more of him and I don't know if it was just a dream or my imagination, but he groans deep in his throat and that is a sound I promise myself to hear again before entering slumberland.

...

"What!" I heart someone hiss and I know I will be able to recognize this voice even if it was miles away, but it sounds more of anger that annoyance. "Threnody is alive and you are just telling me this now" his voice booms and when I open my eyes, he instantly turns to me and all the anger dissipates and replaces with regrets, I slowly sit on the huge bed but when I stare around there's no one around but I could have sworn he just spoke to someone.

"Did I wake you up" I slowly nod knowing that lying is not an option and he walks to me with uncomfortable slow steps before deciding to sit next to me. "Apologies," he says, the word lingering in the air, his voice soft but sincere.

"it's fine I should have been up by a while now" I tell him looking around one more time, making sure there was no one in here. "Who are you talking to?" I ask even though I clearly know there is no one except for us here.

"Baram" he answers, his gaze still holding mine, there's a weight behind his eyes, is he really sadden by the fact he woke me up when I should have been up by now. "How was your sleep?" he whispers, his voice almost too quiet, as if he fears breaking the delicate stillness between us.

"It was fine," I murmur, but his gaze lingers on me, as if he's searching for something deeper in my words. I offer a small, tired smile and relent. "Actually... I slept like a baby," I admit softly, the truth slipping out before I can stop it. My sleep had been deep and peaceful, something I hadn't expected, considering everything swirling in my mind.

He seems to relax at my admission, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Good," he whispers, his voice warmer now, as though my answer has lightened his own burden somehow. His eyes soften, and for a moment, it feels as though he's relieved, like maybe he needed to know that I was at peace, even if just for a little while.

"Why are you whispering?" I ask, my curiosity piqued by the soft tone he's using.

His eyes flicker with surprise, as if he hadn't even noticed. A small, almost sheepish smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "I didn't want to disturb the quiet," he replies, still in that same gentle voice. "It just feels... better this way." His words hang in the air, and I realize he's trying to keep the moment delicate, like he's afraid if he speaks too loudly, the fragile peace between us might shatter.

"Where are we?" I finally ask, my voice barely carrying over the low hum of conversation around us. He glances at me, his expression hard to read under the dim, amber glow of lanterns hanging from wooden beams. The smell of stale ale, damp wood, and roasted meat fills the air. Somewhere nearby, a bard's lute plucks a lazy tune, though no one seems to be listening.

"A tavern," Heinrich says simply, as if that explains everything. I glance around, taking in the mismatched tables, drunken patrons slumped in corners, and a thick haze of smoke curling near the rafters. The floor is sticky beneath my boots, and laughter erupts from a group of men at a nearby table, though there's nothing friendly about it. "Just resting. We'll leave for Vinsmug in two hours, after you eat."

The fire crackles steadily nearby, casting flickering light across the worn wooden walls. My limbs are heavy, the ache of travel settling deep in my bones. For a moment, I think we're in a private room in the tavern—some place tucked away from the noise and stares. But then I notice her. A girl glides past, balancing a tray of wine with ease. Her apron is stained with ale spills, and loose curls bounce lightly as she moves between tables.

My breath catches, and my eyes widen as realization hits: we're not in a private room—we're in the middle of the tavern, on a bed pushed into the corner of the common area. The sight jars me, making my heart skip. I stiffen slightly, glancing around. She catches my gaze and offers the softest smile, as if my presence here—awkward and exposed—is the most ordinary thing in the world.

"Relax," he murmurs, sensing my unease without even looking at me. "No one cares. Travelers stop here all the time."

I shift under the blanket, acutely aware of how strange it feels to be sprawled on a bed in full view of the tavern's patrons. Across the room, men laugh over mugs of ale, and the bard strums a half-hearted melody.

"You could've told me," I mutter, tugging the blanket higher over my legs.

He finally glances at me, a flicker of amusement in his dark eyes. "You didn't ask." The girl with the tray disappears behind the bar, her presence lingering in the air like the faintest touch. I exhale slowly, trying to will the heat in my cheeks away.

"I'm supposed to eat here?" I ask, still half-dazed by the oddity of it all.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Yes. And soon. We won't have time once we're on the road."

I nod slowly, glancing around the room again, hoping to settle my unease. There's a strange comfort in how no one seems to care. As if I'm invisible, just another weary traveler passing through.

The smell of roasting meat and freshly baked bread makes my stomach rumble, reminding me how long it's been since we last stopped. He notices and stands, his cloak swaying behind him.

"I'll get you something," he says, his voice low but warm. "Stay here."

I sink deeper into the mattress as he walks toward the bar, his presence drawing a few idle glances but no real attention. The firelight flickers across the room, and for the first time since we arrived, I let myself relax—just a little.

But before I can relax, the ground trembles beneath me—a violent shake, as if the earth itself groans in warning. The bed jolts with the force, rattling the lanterns overhead.

My heart lurches in my chest. I barely have time to react before a strong arm wraps tightly around me, pulling me close.

Caeruleus.

"Stay down," he growls in my ear, his voice sharp and urgent.

Chaos erupts around us. Chairs scrape violently against the floor, mugs clatter to the ground, and shouts fill the air. The heavy stomp of boots drowns out the bard's tune as knights storm through the tavern door.

"Trolls! Trolls are coming!" one knight bellows, his voice cutting through the din like a blade. "Everyone, take cover!"

The room descends into a frenzy. Patrons abandon their drinks, scrambling toward exits or ducking under tables. The serving girl with the tray of wine lets out a startled yelp, her tray crashing to the floor as she runs toward the back.

He shifts beside me, his grip still firm. His cloak sweeps across my legs as he adjusts, shielding me from the rising panic. His eyes are sharp, scanning the room with deadly focus. "We need to move. Now."

Before I can respond, the tremors return—stronger this time. The wooden beams overhead creak ominously, dust falling from the rafters as the ground pulses beneath us.

"Caeruleus—" I start, my voice trembling, but I stop being scared of the possible monster outside this door or the smile he gives me during a time like this.

"I've got you," he cuts in, lifting me with ease. His arm tightens around my waist as if he doesn't trust the floor to stay beneath us much longer.

The shouts outside grow louder. I hear the distant clash of steel, the distinct war cry of men preparing for battle—and then, through it all, the unmistakable guttural roar of something far too large and far too angry.

A troll. Maybe more.

His jaw sets grimly. "We can't wait. Hold on to me."

Without hesitation, I wrap my arms around his neck just as the tavern door bursts open again, letting in a cold gust of night air—and with it, the shadow of something monstrous in the distance.