"Unless you told me yourself that you no longer wished to carry this responsibility alone."
Athalia's breath hitched. "Do you think I do not wish for a child?"
He frowned, lifting a hand to her cheek although sad. "I know you do. And I know how much it weighs on you, even when you do not say it. But these things take time. You must not let the words of restless nobles fill your heart with fear."
Athalia's lashes lowered, hiding the shift in her expression.
"Fear" She thought
If only she knew that he was in much more in pain.
"I do not want you troubled by this," Adrain continued. "You are enough, Athalia. More than enough."
"They also spoke of Emelia," she said simply.
Adrain's brows lifted slightly. "Your sister?" he asked. "What did they say?"
"That she is carrying a child."
Adrain considered her quietly. "Does this trouble you?"
Athalia looked away. "Why would it not?"
"You and Emelia are sisters," he said gently. "Her happiness does not diminish yours."
Athalia said nothing. She felt no comfort in his words.
Adrain's voice lowered. "What is the problem?"
"The problem is that I am being compared to her again," she murmured.
There was a pause.
"Athalia," he said after a moment, "you know that no one or woman can compare to you."
"That is not what the nobles think," she replied quietly.
Adrain frowned. "If someone dared speak disrespectfully…"
"They were not disrespectful," Athalia cut in. "Though, not openly. They spoke in that soft, sweet manner that makes one feel as if the sting is self-inflicted."
Adrain stepped closer and took her hand. She allowed it but did not lean into him as she normally would.
"You are their queen," he said firmly. "You carry the kingdom with grace. One pregnancy, be it your sister's or any woman's cannot threaten your place."
Athalia gave him a thin smile, one that did not reach her eyes. "Perhaps."
But deep inside, she felt a stirring of dread.
Emelia being pregnant meant her sister's life was advancing, growing and flourishing in exile.
While Athalia remained still.
"Athalia," Adrain said, brushing his thumb across her knuckles, "tell me what is weighing on you. All of it."
She met his gaze, and for a brief moment she considered it a confession. Unburdening. Revealing the truth she had carried alone for three reigns.
Her lips closed again.
"There is nothing more," she said softly. "I am only tired."
Adrain watched her for a long moment. She felt him searching her expression, looking for cracks, for shadows, for anything she might be hiding. When she gave him nothing, he sighed.
"You must not allow their gossip to sink into you," he said. "The kingdom respects you. I respect you."
She exhaled. "I know.
He squeezed her hand. "Then rest tonight. Tomorrow we can ride beyond the palace walls. You always clear your thoughts when we do."
The offer softened her slightly. Riding had always brought her peace.
"I would like that," she said.
He kissed the back of her hand, and she allowed herself to lean just a little into the moment, the comfort, the sincerity, the warmth she knew she didn't deserve.
For she had lied to him for years.
She watched her husband walk away toward the interior chambers. When he was gone, she turned back to the horizon.
The kingdom lights glittered below like scattered jewels.
She pressed a hand to her abdomen, a place that had known only emptiness by her own design. A place she had sealed with herbs, and silent vows.
And yet the noblewomen's words gnawed at her:
"Princess Emelia is newly with child."
"The people compare."
"The kingdom must continue."
In the gathering shadows, she whispered:
"I will not be replaced."
"Lira," she said, voice firm again, "send for the royal physician. I want to know the state of my health."
Lira's eyes widened. "Your Majesty… you have not allowed the physicians near you for years."
"Send him," Athalia repeated.
Lira bowed and hurried out.
Athalia crossed the chamber in restless steps. She touched the ornate table, the embroidered curtains, the polished mirror and objects that reflected her rise, her beauty, and her carefully crafted persona.
She stared at herself in the mirror. Her face was flawless, her posture regal, but beneath her eyes, a faint shadow had begun to form. A sign of sleepless nights. A sign of tension she refused to show the world.
"You cannot lose this," she whispered to her reflection. "You have given too much."
A faint knock came.
The royal physician entered, carrying a wooden case of herbs and metal instruments. He bowed deeply. "Your Majesty. You summoned me?"
Athalia gestured for him to stand. "Yes. I wish to know… why I have not conceived."
The physician's face remained respectfully neutral. "If Your Majesty permits, I will conduct a mild assessment."
She allowed it.
He checked her pulse, her eyes, her tongue. He asked delicate questions. When he finished, he bowed again.
"Your Majesty," he said carefully, "you are in excellent health. There is no physical impediment. Sometimes stress, travel, concern, or responsibilities delay conception… but your body is capable."
Athalia's breath tightened. "Are you certain?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," the physician said. "There is nothing wrong with you."
Nothing wrong.
"You may go," she said
The physician bowed and left.
Athalia stood alone in the silent chamber as the truth closed around her like a tightening snare.
She could conceive. Her body was healthy.
The kingdom expected it and Adrain desired it.
And her sister's pregnancy had ignited renewed pressure.
And for the first time since she became queen, Athalia felt a tremor of something she had long believed she eradicated:
Helplessness.
"I traded my future for my throne," she whispered. "And now the kingdom asks for what I cannot give. But I cannot let Emelia win."
"Dear sister, forgive me"
When night fell and the palace grew quiet, Athalia sat at her writing table, dipped her quill into ink, and penned a letter with precise strokes:
"To the Shadow Guard,
The target is the princess. Confirm the end.
—A."
She sealed the letter with melted wax and pressed her signet ring into it.
Lira returned just as Athalia placed it in a small pouch.
"Is that for the King, Your Majesty?" Lira asked innocently.
"No," Athalia replied, her tone cool as glass. "For someone who needs instructions."
Lira bowed and left without questioning further.
Athalia stepped out into the dim corridor and handed the pouch to a hooded figure emerging silently from the shadows.
"You know what to do," she whispered.
The figure nodded once and vanished.
Meanwhile, in a modest villa far from the capital, Princess Emelia stood by her window, rubbing her abdomen gently as she stared at the sky.
Eric, noticing her quietness, stepped behind her. His arms came around her waist.
"You're thinking too much," he murmured.
"I'm thinking about our child," she whispered. "About the life ahead. I hope Arrandelle will still be safe when he or she arrives.
Eric kissed her temple. "I will protect both of you. That is my promise."
But outside, hidden among the trees, eyes watched the gentle scene with cold resolve.
Athalia returned to her chambers with unusual lightness in her steps. She sat by the window, gazing into the courtyard where torches flickered against stone walls.
Minutes turned into an hour.
Then…
There was a Tap.
A pebble struck her balcony rail. She stepped out and found a shadow slipping back into the darkness.
On the stone lay a small parchment.
She opened it.
"It is done."
Athalia exhaled slowly, feeling a strange warmth bloom in her chest. Not guilt. She felt relieved. Relief that what could destroy her future had been snuffed out before it began.
Still smiling faintly, she entered her bedchamber.
Adrain stood there.
"I didn't know when you entered".
He looked at her as though noticing something new.
"You're strangely cheerful tonight," he said warmly, stepping closer. "Should I ask what miracle brightened your mood?"
"Must I have a reason to be cheerful?" she teased.
"You don't need one," he replied, capturing her hand. "But I cannot ignore when my wife glows this much."
Adrain leaned in, his voice low. "Should we… enjoy this mood together? One time?"
Athalia laughed softly. "Adrain, it is late."
"That never stopped us before."
She let him pull her close, partly for pleasure… partly for strategy. A child would anchor her position permanently. And the herbs were no longer stopping her.
That night, she didn't fight the natural rhythm of their bodies. There was a subtle shift and a choice she had already made.
And the king… slept with peace in her arms.
Sunlight pooled into the room when Athalia awoke. Birds chirped outside. Lira knocked before entering with water for bathing.
The queen rose with an unusual lightness. As she bathed, brushed her hair, and dressed, Lira observed her.
"You seem… joyful," Lira commented.
Athalia smirked secretly. "The morning is pleasant."
Adrain entered moments later, pulling on a robe.
"Still glowing, I see," he teased. "Should we say last night's passion is responsible?"
Athalia chuckled, yet not entirely dismissing the idea.
He walked behind her, pressed a kiss to her neck, and whispered, "If one night gives you joy like this, perhaps we should make it two."
She slapped his chest lightly. "Adrain, enough."
"Is that a yes?"
"Maybe."
They shared a playful moment that was rare and gentle in ways outsiders never saw.
Athalia stepped out into the hallway humming.
Everything was perfect.
"Your Majesty," someone approached cautiously.
Athalia turned slowly to see who it was.