Born to be His Queen

Alexander’s firm grip enveloped my hand as he effortlessly lifted me off the ground. Murmurs swirled around me, barely audible beneath the heavy haze of my fading consciousness. I fought to open my eyes, but they remained sealed. Trapping me in a dark, unyielding void. It felt as though I were falling, drifting deeper into the darkness.

Time seemed to slip away, leaving me unsure of how long I had been unconscious. The world around me was unfamiliar, and disorienting. I could not tell where we were or how far we had traveled. Though voices murmured nearby, their words were indecipherable. A day once filled with joy had twisted into something unrecognizable, shadowed by pain and uncertainty.

Agony ripped through me, unrelenting, as though my body were being torn apart from the inside. I was lost in a sea of suffering, with no escape. It felt endless as if I would never be free from it. At last, the torment seemed to ease. I found myself lowered onto the soft embrace of a plush mattress. Despite my efforts, my eyelids refused to part, holding me captive in this dark, silent world. The sounds of commotion around me faded into the background. Swallowed by the overwhelming weight of my exhaustion.

Time, which had seemed so fleeting before, now stretched endlessly. Days seemed to pass in the silence, my senses dulled by the pain. The urgency in the voices around me tugged at my awareness. I could not focus on anything but the relentless ache consuming my body.

A sudden surge of unbearable pain brought me back to the present, as if my body were about to ignite. Then, piercing through the haze, I heard the unmistakable cry of a newborn. Relief flooded me. My child was born. They were safe. The pain began to wane, leaving me breathless but grateful. I sank deeper into the soft bedding, trying once again to open my eyes. This time, they responded, though the world was still blurred and distant.

Slowly, the mist lifted, and I blinked against the light that filled the room. Shapes came into focus. Blurry at first, but gradually sharpening. The first thing I saw was Alexander, standing before me, holding a small bundle of blankets in his arms. His face was unreadable, caught in a quiet argument with Cecelia. They were unaware that I had awakened. I tried to speak, but my throat was parched, and no sound emerged. Instead, I reached out, brushing Alexander’s arm. He was startled by my touch, his gaze snapping to mine.

“Adeline, you are awake,” he said softly, relief flooding his voice.

I gestured toward the pitcher of water beside him, too weak to speak. He swiftly placed the baby in the cradle and poured a glass of water, bringing it to my lips. I drank slowly, savoring the coolness. My throat burned less now, though my voice was still a rasp.

“How long have I been asleep?”

Alexander's face softened, worry etched into his features.

“Two days.”

His eyes reflected both relief and lingering concern. The news made my head spin. Two days lost to darkness and pain.

“What happens now, Alexander?”

He squeezed my hand gently.

“I have dealt with the council and quelled the rumors.”

“Our place remains secure.”

“We will move forward.”

A weight I had not realized I was carrying lifted, and I sighed with relief. Alexander seemed to sense my unspoken desire to see our child. He carefully lifted the baby from the cradle and placed him in my arms.

“Meet our son,” he whispered, his voice full of pride.

I looked down at the tiny face peeking out from the blankets. At that moment, the world outside faded away, leaving only the three of us. The peace was short-lived. Cecelia, who had been standing nearby, cleared her throat sharply, shattering the quiet. Her eyes flicked between Alexander and me, a cold smile on her lips.

“It is good to see you awake, Adeline,” she said, her tone thinly veiled with disdain.

I forced myself to remain calm, focusing on my child’s innocent eyes.

“Have you named him yet, Alexander?”

I asked softly, ignoring Cecelia’s intrusion. Alexander smiled at me.

“I thought you would want to choose his name.”

I hesitated for only a moment before the right name came to me.

“Andrew,” I said firmly.

“His name is Andrew.”

The baby cooed softly, and a smile spread across Alexander’s face.

“Andrew,” he repeated, his voice filled with conviction.

“A name worthy of a king.”

Before the moment could settle, Cecelia’s voice cut through the air.

“Nathan is your firstborn, Alexander.”

“Do not forget that.”

Alexander’s gaze hardened.

“Nathan was born of a mistress.”

“He has no claim to the throne.”

Her smile faltered, but Cecelia was not easily deterred.

“The law states that if the child of a mistress is born before the heir, he may still ascend the throne, should the king deem him more fit.”

A cold unease settled over me as I glanced at Alexander, hoping he understood the weight of her words.

“Nathan will only take the throne if Andrew proves unfit.”

“Or if he dies before coming of age,” Alexander replied coldly.

Cecelia’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing more. Instead, she turned on her heel and stormed from the room, leaving us in tense silence. Alexander exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

“I am sorry, Adeline.”

I reached for his hand, offering him a small smile.

“There is nothing to apologize for.”

He leaned in, pressing his lips to mine in a brief, tender kiss.

“I thought I had lost you.”

“You can never lose me, Alexander.”

We sat together; our baby nestled between us. A nurse entered quietly, taking Andrew for his feeding. Alexander’s hand remained in mine as we watched her rock our child, a sense of calm finally descending after the storm.

“You should rest.”

Alexander held me close as we lay down. His presence was a steady comfort. Wrapped in his warmth, I drifted into sleep. The worries of the world faded as the peace of the moment embraced us both.