xxx.

THE DUCHESS OF BASINGSTOKE EXHALED a heavy breath in the perfumed air of the guest chambers she had been given in the Angrian royal palace, a second after making sure that her fair, blue eyed and curly haired little boy she had put to sleep had drifted off entirely—his chest rising and falling gently in a rhythm.

She herself had had no energy to freshen herself up after the arrival to the palace. In her red silk nightgown—roughed with dirt at some places in the aftermath of the attack upon her—her hair in complete disarray, with dirt probably on her face too, she must've looked disgraceful entering the palace with Archie in her arms as she did.

Isadora had feared that the Queen mother of Angria would be there, she had feared that the woman would see her in the state that she was in and would scowl. After all, hadn't Isa kicked away the prospect of a life in the palace with the woman's son? Hadn't Isa broken an engagement and left the Queen mother to answer to all the royal guests and nobles wondering why there wasn't a wedding coming?

Isadora knew that the Queen mother would think her return disgraceful and an utter nuisance.

Except, thankfully, it was the middle of the night and only the King's royal advisor—Eugene Flammant—had been the one present to greet her alongside a few guards, and lead her and Archie to her chambers upon the King's orders.

Despite her fearfully clamoring heart at the prospect of being forced to face people—Queen Ariana firstly—again in a place where she had suffered a grievous heartbreak, and caused others to suffer too, Eugene Flammant's reception of her was just as it had been before. With his perfect calm swiftness and cordial manner, he had respectfully lead her to the chambers after assigning a few staff to take Lucy to a room in the servants' quarters, assuring the Duchess that her maid would be well looked after.

Still in a conscious daze after everything that had transpired, Isadora had refused the assistance of any maids or servants for personal attendance, regardless of the persistent insistence of the Angrian royal advisor under orders from the King.

She had wanted to be alone for a moment, to gather herself and let Archie's presence ground her. He too was still shaking—shocked and scared after all that he had seen happen, and getting him ready for sleep again had been a task in itself.

Now, he had dozed off, and Isa could finally calm her own self down.

She stood up off the edge of the bed and walked over to the adjoined room on the right-the main room. She closed the door of Archie's room behind her.

The main room was perhaps the chamber given to royal or noble guests who had a baby or a toddler along, so that they could put the child to sleep in the smaller adjoined room and rest themselves in the main room, all the while being in relief of their child's presence, for there was a bell in the room that a child could ring from the adjoined room to announce his rising—or the simple fact that instead of sleeping, they were engaging in satisfying their curiosity.

Isa walked over to the giant vanity in the main room, looking at herself in the wide mirror that seemed to begin all the way from the ceiling and downwards. The bed behind her was luxurious, with an extravagant bedframe while the smaller room where Archie now slept had four wooden frames locking the still spacious bed in from all sides—for child safety.

Her appearance in the mirror startled her. The dirt on her nightgown was a foreseeable feat, but letting the length aside to reveal her legs, she saw that they were marked with angry red cuts in places. And now that she saw them, they burned and throbbed. Her left knee was bleeding with a deeper cut, and she recognized the pain of it and remembered the exact moment of getting it when she had been pushed to the ground.

Her cheekbone was streaked with dried dirt, and her hair was matted.

Unable to stand the sight of herself, Isadora took advantage of Archie's sleeping and quickly stepped into the shower of the guest room, grabbing the lemon coloured night dress she had been sent through one of the palace maids.

There was also a day gown sent—a sky blue coloured and silver gem stones embedded—alongside the night dress, for Isadora to wear in the morning when she stepped outside of her room. The gown was gorgeous from the glimpses she had managed to have of it as it lay on the luxurious bed, but it only made her realize how she had brought nothing along with her.

Mon Dieu, all of her and Archie's belongings were at the estate, and she could only hope that both the things and the estate would remain there unharmed, morning come.

She scrubbed herself in the shower, willing herself not to cry in the turn of circumstances her life had taken. She felt displaced. After believing herself to be in the most secure position in her life—regardless of her heartbreak—she now felt displaced.

It is only temporary, she repeated to herself. Everything will be alright, this is only temporary.

After her shower, she slipped the lemon coloured nightdress on. It was the kind of silk she had become habitual of—with it's soft, shining and gleaming material—but it was a full sleeved dress with a deep square neckline, unlike the individual set and robe combination the Duchess wore at the estate.

Regardless, she felt calm seep through her as she brushed her wet hair and left it to air dry.

The cuts on her legs—as well as the deeper one on her knee—still burned and throbbed, so she set about finding an ointment in the chamber drawers—anything to soothe the cuts.

The endeavor proved successful as she found a tube in Archie's adjoined room, and brought it over to the main room, seating herself on the middle of the luxurious bed and lifting her knees up as she lifted the hem of the dress and started applying the ointment onto the cuts on her legs.

She had barely begun—with every direct dab of the ointment on the cuts making her hiss-when there was a knock on her door.

With an impending submission, she thought maybe she should've acquired help of the palace maids when the advisor had insisted, atleast one of them could've helped her with her cuts.

Whichever maid or footman was behind the door at present, Isa made up her mind to ask them to call for some assistance, because even if she managed to put the ointment everywhere she needed it on her own, Archie might wakeup before she could finished the job.

"Come in," She called softly, wary of disturbing her son's sleep in the adjoined room, though she knew Archie had never really been a feather light sleeper.

The door handle clicked and the door opened. Moving her eyes away from her job on her legs, she glanced at the door, pre-decided words on her tongue that sizzled and died out when she saw the person who had come to her instead.

The King of Angria, Alexander Casimir, walked in, shutting the door behind him as Isadora froze in midst of her task.

His eyes fell onto her form on the bed, knees held high, half her bare legs on display as she held the silk material of the gown at her knees.

There was perspiration on his forehead, and bits of his front dark hair was stuck to it and falling into his narrowed eyes. He was breathing heavily too, and though his dark brocade attire was unblemished—courtesy of the cloak he was wearing earlier-he looked like he had all but ran his horse all the way from Basingstoke to Angria.

His dark skin gleamed gold as a result of his exertion, and Isa found her heart hammering inside her chest-making her partly deaf.

Mon Dieu, the journey from Angria to Basingstoke and back was almost a two hour debacle each time. Aside from the travelling, he had dealt with the protestors at the Duke's estate and whatever else he must've done besides—he must be so exhausted.

Isa's heart crumpled as she forced her shock away to regain her composure, letting the skirts of her dress cover her legs.

"Your majesty," She managed, not knowing what else to say as she made to move herself towards the edge of the bed.

"Please," The King let out, his voice hard as he raised a ringed hand. "Stay where you are."

She stopped, obeying his command reluctantly. She had been meaning to get off the bed and drop into a curtsey—the proper way to be in the presence of the King. But what qualified for proper anymore? Hadn't she breached the bounds of propriety between them a few hours ago already?

Her neck warmed as the memory and feel of his embrace came back to her. He had saved her life—goodness knows what that rebel would've done to her if the King hadn't been there.

She thought of Louis then-the Duke's estate's gardener's apprentice. Though he had tried to help, he couldn't have made any difference. Isadora thought of the estate footman's words against Louis. Sympathizer. Though the man had denied the claim, she still couldn't understand how it had all come to be.

There was civil unrest against the King of Angria. The Kingdom of Angria was divided into those for and those against the King's policies for dealing with the recent attacks. It was the whole reason that she had been made to leave the estate and seek refuge here with her son. And all Isadora could think was, how had it all happened?

"Are you alright?" Alexander Casimir spoke then, his eyes fixated on her. "How is Archie?"

"Archie is alright, your majesty, he is sleeping at present," Isa spoke softly, half wishing that he'd just go away.

He had saved her life, yes, but what was the King of Angria doing? What was he doing to make so many people so angry that they would resort to taking up pitchforks and terrorizing her at the estate's gates? The King had apologized to her then, but she couldn't understand what he had done to seek forgiveness for, and with her heart clenching, she almost didn't want to know.

Had he truly done nothing for the town of Alopie like the fairy godmother had claimed? Had the King of Angria truly become that selfish in the grief that Isadora had given to him and herself? Mon Dieu, was she truly the one to blame for all this?

How could choosing her son over the love of her life lead to all this? Anger gripped Isa's heart then. It was unfair, everything happening was so so unfair and she couldn't understand it.

"I'm alright too," She managed, casting a brief glance on her covered legs. "I only have a few cuts, so I was merely—"

"May I?" The King blurted out then, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, his light brown eyes unblinking and determined.

He came to the edge of the bed and held his hand out for the ointment tube.

Isa's hand shook as she gave him the tube, her heart thudding so hard it made her chest ache.

The King sat himself down at the edge of the bed, right beside Isadora's form, and started unscrewing the cap of the tube.

"Your majesty," Isa began shakily, "I'm truly alright, I can manage this myself. It's nothing—"

"Let me do this for my fucking sanity," He uttered then, his tone hard and desperate as he squeezed out the ointment onto his fingers and turned to face her legs.

"Lift your gown."

Isadora blinked at the command, every nerve in her body shaking violently. Regardless, she slowly lifted the hem of her dress to show her legs—littered with angry red cuts that she was trying to stifle.

The King brought his ointment covered fingers down on her legs and gently dabbed at the cuts-much gentler than she herself had been. His touch was warm and the cuts burned, but the treatment offered a cooling effect that helped cancel out the ache.

With concentration in his eyes, the King went for all the cuts that he could see, his head bent in focus. When he reached upwards on her knees, he spotted the edge of the deeper cut on her knee—the one she had been trying to hide from his gaze with her skirts.

"Higher," He muttered, gesturing for her to lift her dress some more.

"Your majesty," Isa breathed, desperation clogging her throat. "I can manage from here. You shouldn't do this—"

The royal's eyes snapped to hers then, a sudden fury lighting his gaze.

"I will do what I need to," He let out, and then with his eyes fixed in hers, he grabbed the underside of her leg—a thick warm palm cupping her bare calf muscle—and yanked her towards him with a swift effortlessness.

She gasped, trying to hold herself upright as he moved the skirt of the dress out of the way to her her thigh and examined her knee.

"Fuck," He murmured, anger lacing his tone at the sight of the wound.

Isadora shut her eyes briefly, desperately wishing the scene away while her heart throbbed painfully and wildly. She was sprawled in front of him—her legs were right in front of him, and with his right hand still holding her calf muscle, he kept her in place, with her feet resting over his clothed thighs.

Without lifting his head to meet her eyes, he applied the ointment in generous amounts to the wound, after which he dug into his pocket for a handkerchief which he instantly wrapped around her knee and tied into a knot.

Then he finally lifted his head to meet Isadora's ebony eyes.

"I won't let this happen to you again," The King of Angria spoke, his jaw tight as he gazed into her eyes with a fierceness. "I won't let you get hurt ever again."

Isadora shook her head then, a battle ongoing in her mind and heart.

"Is it just me you worry about?" She asked softly, "What about your kingdom? Do you make these promises to your kingdom?"

King Alexander Casimir's gaze hardened then, a defiance surging into his eyes.

"You have no right to ask me that," His words were stones, and they cut Isa sharper than the gravel that had scraped her skin.

"I know," She managed, her eyes stinging with tears. She would have the right if she was his wife and the Queen of Angria, wouldn't she? She would have had the right then.

"But still I ask," Her voice shook, "Still I ask if you have let what happened between us taint the love you have for your kingdom."

The royal scoffed then, viciously turning his head away as he got up.

"What kingdom?" He spat, anger tightening his voice as he met her eyes again. "The one in which I couldn't marry you despite fucking ruling the multitude of these lands? The one in which I couldn't get the one thing I fucking wanted?"

"Zander," Isadora gasped in shock, "These are your people! Are you going to take your anger out on them for what happened?"

He sobered then, pausing briefly as realization took over his features.

"I would never take my anger out on my people."

Isa searched his eyes, hope flaring in her chest.

"Then why is there civil unrest?" She prodded, "Why do people say you haven't done anything for Alopie?"

Zander swallowed, his eyes softening as he narrowed his eyes and tightened his jaw.

"I have had the town of Alopie sealed," He met her eyes. "I am having it rebuilt, and those injured are being provided aid inside the town walls. I have sealed all trade routes into and out of the town. I have stocked every resource in abundance that I could think of and have doubled town guard so much so that even if the rest of the Kingdom burns down, Alopie would remain standing."

Isadora's lips parted in surprise.

"The unrest is prompted because people aren't aware of what is happening in Alopie," The royal continued, "And frankly, I don't at present give a fucking care to go around explaining what I'm doing, to people."

He has sealed the town, Isadora repeated inside her head. But has he completely sealed it from magic eyes as well? Couldn't even the fairies be aware of what was happening inside? The five fairies—fairy godmother included—barter and bargain with Kings all over the lands. Isadora knew that. But it seemed to her that King Alexander Casimir of Angria had no care to have any fairy alliance on standby.

Which was why he was such an enigma to the fairies—Mon Dieu, this was why fairy godmother needed Isadora's aid in controlling him because none of the fairies have his trust or any open access to him. They foresee that he can win the incoming war, but they aren't sure on how to be a part of the prophecy except by getting through to him through Isadora herself.

"What of the border?" Isa asked, not wanting to let the conversation slip away before having asked everything she needed to.

"The Duke is not the only man I have positioned there," The King spoke, his eyes fixed in hers. "Regardless of me wanting him dead, I'll dig him up and kill him myself if he goes without a fight in defense of my kingdom. I have Dukes from many towns in my kingdom assembled on the border with armies, and I receive hourly reports of every activity. The attacks are met with equal force and are quelled. I see nothing more to do."

Isa felt relief flood her like a balm to her soul. So he was holding up. He was doing things for the Kingdom. He did care for his people. Just because he had no alliance with the fairies and no care to spread the knowledge of his plans, didn't mean that he didn't care for his people.

"And your alliance with King Reginald?" She asked then.

The royal shook his head, indifference on his face.

"Reginald asked me for the control of my kingdom under the label of an alliance, I saw through it and refused," His fists tightened at his sides. "It doesn't matter if my damned heart is speared through, Isadora, it doesn't matter if I'm choking up blood. This is my kingdom and I'll go down ruling it-no matter however I have to."

Isa brought a hand to her chest to ground herself. So many speculations had troubled her in the past days, but the conclusion remained simple. Though she had hurt him, though he was hurting, he was still doing what he was meant to do, only his methods were bound by his anguish and fury—his ability barred by an ailing heart.

The fairy godmother was right when she had said that the King needed her. If his heart had been unhurt, how much more could he have accomplished in face of all of the kingdom's troubles?

Isa wished she could tear her chest open and make him realize that she too carried a butchered heart inside of her—that she too was hurting. She wished with all her might that he understood that she had been anything but selfish when she had made her choice. But judging by his anger, she would be a fool to believe there was no contempt in his feelings for her now.

If she was in his place, she would hate herself too.

"Do we know who's attacking the kingdoms?" Isadora asked into the silence of the room. "Mother mentioned a recent attack in her letters on Valence's border too."

The King of Angria shook his head, his eyes gazing into hers with a focus.

"Every attack has been blind, with no living being spotted holding weapons. I suspect they sneak around and arrange the attacks as traps to be triggered and set off on a later time or date—whoever the fuck those filthy bastards are."

Isa remembered the fairy godmother predicting the attackers, claiming them to be beyond anything anyone could predict. But here, in front of the King, she didn't want to mention any of it. She didn't want to speak of the fairy godmother's otherwise vague predictions and speculations.

Somehow inside her heart she wanted to give no heed to the fairy godmother's prognoses just because Zander didn't care to as well. He had no alliances with any fairies, even though other Kings are known to beg and barter for a fairy's promise to secure their lineages and dynasties.

The King of Angria—Zander—didn't care for any such favor given to him by another's liking. And Isadora found herself admiring him all the more for it, as her heart stirred in her chest.

"Zander," Isadora uttered then, slowly folding and tucking her knees beside her form on the bed.

"I'm sorry for having prodded like this," She swallowed thickly. "You're right, I don't have any right to. I was—I was just scared and I needed to know. Thank you for telling me."

Zander exhaled through his nose, not moving his gaze away from her.

"You can drive a knife through my throat and ask me something," He let out, "And I'd still fucking answer."

"Zander," Isadora spoke, her voice pained at his words. She shifted herself on the bed again and accidentally bent her wrapped knee tight.

She winced in the pain of it, and Zander was instantly at her side.

"Don't move it," He urged, gently holding her leg and straightening it while she sat up. "Keep it still for a while."

Having guided her leg straight, his palm lingered onto her skin as he sat down on the edge of the bed again, his thumb caressing the skin of her leg as he bent his head, his eyes on both her legs.

"When I saw you—," He started hesitantly, "With that bastard on top of you—hurting you—fuck, I lost it, Isadora. I saw red."

Isa's throat tightened. "I never thanked you for saving me. Thank you. If you hadn't come—"

"I would always come," He let out, lifting his head to meet her eyes sharply. "No matter what fucking timeline or alternative universe is happening, I will always come when you need me. Do you understand me? There's no 'if'."

Isadora shut her eyes, willing herself to take in his words so that they would forever ring inside her head—so that they would forever live and breathe inside her.

"You never answered my question," Zander spoke after a pause, his thumb still caressing the side of her leg on the bed, his touch soft and soothing.

"What question?" Isa managed, gentle curiosity in her tone.

The royal in front of her tightened his jaw and swallowed, forcing the repeat of an earlier question from in between his lips as he met her eyes.

"Augustus Bennett—," He uttered. "Does the fucker touch you? Do you let him touch you? I know you're married to him, but I just—I swear I'll set him on fire if I think of his hands on your body one more time."

Isadora blinked, then making sure he understood the look in her eyes, she shook her head.

"I don't care for him," She murmured softly. "I'd rather die than let him touch me."

Zander sucked in a breath awash with shock and relief in equal measure—as though he had fully expected to be severed by her words. As though he had hope but had also accepted his fate.

"The Duke gets his pleasure from other ladies at night, away from the estate," She continued calmly, watching relief solidify on Zander's features.

The King's dark skin still gleamed in the lights of the room. It was late outside, and Isadora was aware she was getting no sleep, and neither was he. But unlike her feelings when he had entered the chambers, she didn't want him to leave just yet.

Acting on an impulse, she reached her hand to touch his face—her fair fingers on his sculpted bronze face as he met her eyes, startled at her touch.

"Isadora," He groaned, leaning her face into her touch. "I'll die loving you. Fuck, every breath I take is for want of you."

And I'll die loving you, she wanted to say but she was married to someone else. Could she still say such a thing? Did she have the right to, after tossing Zander's love away?

Instead, she didn't turn her eyes away from him, and they stung with tears. He saw the look in her eyes, but did he understand how trapped she felt? Did he understand how she would've chosen him and her son together in every lifetime over and over again if she hadn't been forced to choose one?

Slowly, Zander leaned in and brushed his lips against hers.

"No foreign attack has the power to hurt me like you have, Isa," He breathed against her lips. "You could kill me here and right now and I would let you do it a thousand times over."

A tear tumbled out of Isadora's eye. "I don't ever want to hurt you again. I'm so sorry."

Prompted by her words, Zander slammed his lips against hers, kissing her with force and passion as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers in his hair.

He pushed her slowly backwards with his weight, his arm behind her back until her head came in contact with the bed and he broke the kiss to meet her sparkling ebony eyes gazing up at him.

He saw no worry in her eyes then—no refusal, no distress. Suddenly, he wanted her to stop him like she always did, bringing propriety into the equation every time. She was married to someone else, fuck, she had signed herself off to someone else. He wanted her to stop him, because if she didn't, who the fuck would?

He dove into her neck, kissing her skin and sucking on it as he trailed the kisses down to her chest.

When his lips came in contact with the silk of the nightdress, he stopped and separated himself from her.

"Tell me to stop, Isa," He swallowed, his words hard as he watched her. "Tell me to stop and I will stop."

"Please," He groaned when she didn't respond, anthracite eyes glittering up at him as he looked as though he was in pain, his facial features twisting in anguish as he held her gaze.

"Isadora, please, tell me to stop."

Isa's brows furrowed, her rationality lost to the winds.

"Don't stop, Zander."

Zander exhaled at her words and aggressively started undoing the buttons on his brocade jacket. Isadora, breathing heavily, could only watch as he got rid of his jacket, leaving himself in a white loose undershirt.

Then he pressed himself back on her again, attaching his lips onto her chest as both his hands travelled underneath Isa at her back as he undid the threading of the nightgown while she arched herself to give him access, then he pulled the dress loose as he dragged it down from her shoulders and all the way to her elbows.

Isadora pulled out her arms from the sleeves, but Zander's lips were already kissing her exposed breasts, his tongue warm against her nipples as she gasped, gripping the hair on his head in between her fingers.

"Zander," Isa moaned, her skin prickling as The King on top of her moved his attention downwards, kissing the skin underneath her breasts as he dragged the dress further down and pulled it out from down her legs, tossing it away.

Isadora had worn nothing underneath the silk lemon nightdress after her shower, and suddenly, she was glad for it.

"God, you're fucking stunning," Zander let out then, looking at her nude form underneath him with lust drenched eyes, his mouth set apart as he panted above her, front bits of his hair falling into his eyes.

He dipped his head back then, looking at the ceiling and shutting his eyes as though he was sending out a prayer. He bent his head back down again, diving for her as he slammed his lips on hers again, kissing her breathless.

"You're so fucking gorgeous, Isa," He panted in between the kiss, before he broke away and kissed her stomach, trailing kisses dangerously downwards.

Isadora's mind was rushing and clouded in ecstasy. She was scared of getting so light that she'd float away. Is this what making love was supposed to be? Every inch of her body needing him like it hadn't needed any other man ever before? Did the Duke feel the same with the different women he indulged himself in night after night? No, she decided. What Zander made her feel could never be replicated by anyone. Nothing like this could ever exist in between other people-because there was only one Zander and only one Isa. Nothing like what they had, could ever be copied. She wanted to melt in Zander, she wanted him to kiss every inch of her forever.

Mon Dieu, the thought of the Duke made her realize how wrong this should feel, but then why was it feeling so right? Why did Zander's lips against her skin feel like that's only where they belonged? Was her skin made only for him? Had God wrapped it around her body of flesh and bone for only Zander's touch?

His tongue swiped against the inside of her left thigh then and Isa let out a sharp gasp as electricity travelled upwards her body. Before she could understand his next move, Zander's lips were between her legs, his tongue flicking her clit.

"Mon Dieu, Zander," She gasped, afraid that her voice would wake Archie up.

But Zander only quickened his pace, eating her out like she was his dessert, while she panted, threw her head backwards and moaned in the ecstasy of it. He had lifted her leg-with the cut knee—gently over his shoulder to give him better access to her, and Isa was made helpless in her desire and need of him.

Bringing her to the edge, Zander pulled away and ripped his white undershirt off his body, revealed his dark muscular form beneath. Isa was shocked at the sight of him, he was built like he could never be unbuilt—a strong statue dominating the louvre, unyielding and hard as stone.

"You taste like my heaven," Zander uttered then, his words like molten stones, his eyes reflecting that he knew exactly what he had done by pulling away last minute. He licked his lips and he started undoing his trousers.

Isadora could only breathe heavily, her body hot and full of desire on the cool bed. She reached for him, touching his muscular chest—her fair skin against his dark stone hard muscular chest making her heart ignite with need.

She pressed both her palms to his chest, dragging one hand upwards to his neck—feeling the feel of his chest underneath her hands.

Once he had tossed his trousers away, Isa could see his member, and she felt it's hardness as it pressed against her thigh before he adjusted himself in between her legs. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck and submitted herself to him, pulling him close to her and hanging onto him as he pushed himself inside of her.

She stifled a scream and he stopped, pausing to let her adjust to his length.

"Breathe, my love," Zander let out, holding her arched back securely, his head dipped in her neck as he kissed at her nape, breathing hard against her. It was taking effort for him to hold himself still—to not move, to not act on his urges because he'd never do so while being insensitive to her.

"Breathe," He repeated, as Isa did just that, letting her body translate the pain into pleasure.

"Should I stop?" He uttered then, catching her eyes. "Am I hurting you, my love? Do you want me to stop?"

"No," She shook her head in defiance, the need for him almost choking her as she tightened her arms around his neck.

"No, Zander, please don't stop."

He kissed her neck then and started to move, and the pain at Isa's core upon the intrusion kept translating into pleasure slowly but gradually. As his movements inside her became steady, all Isa could feel was the pleasure as her vision saw stars erupting at his every thrust.

He was going slow and steady, his every thrust calculated and precise—in control. His hands held her body, one hand holding her back securely while the other gripped the underside of her thigh. He buried his head in her neck, breathing in her scent and kissing her skin as he moved.

"Zander," She moaned his name, holding onto him like he was her lifeline. His hair brushed against her cheek as she placed a kiss on his hard shoulder.

"I could hear my name on your tongue forever," He uttered, his thrusts picking pace before he slowed, grunting in her ear and kissing her skin.

His last thrusts were slowed, and right after Isadora felt her climax rock her form, Zander exploded inside of her, his breath pushing against her skin as he went limp briefly before shifting himself over to one elbow and dropping down beside her on the bed.

His chest rose and fell with alarming speed as they both panted, The King of Angria's eyes fixed on the ceiling for brief moments as a fierce determination playing on his skin like fire reflecting in a mirror. Isa watched him, but in a minute then he moved towards her, extending his arm underneath her and pulling her close to him.

She let him bring her close, and rested her head on his chest as he adjusted the covers over their forms, pulling the sheets to cover her body. Then he rested his arm under and around her waist, their legs tangled together.

"I love you, Zander," Isadora breathed then, the words desperate to escape out of her mouth as she lifted her head to meet his eyes. "I will never stop loving you."

At her words, he dipped his head to meet her gaze, shock mixed with so many emotions swimming in his intense chocolate eyes. Isadora brought a hand to his cheek, caressing his skin as she lifted herself onto her elbows in order to look at him properly. She didn't want to miss a single look on his face, for what if she were to die? What if another angry mob of people got to her before Zander could save her? What if she died and in her last moments, couldn't remember the emotions on the love of her life's face after they had made passionate love together?

What sort of death would that be?

Mon Dieu, Isa thought suddenly, she had never told him that she loved him after she had married the Duke. But then again, why would she? Was not she expected to love the man she had signed the marriage papers with? Still, Mon Dieu, still, hadn't Zander guessed? Couldn't he believe that she'd always love him even when she had ended their engagement?

"I have loved you since I have seen you," Isa spoke, gazing into his eyes, unable to stop speaking out her heart and mind. "You are part of me, Zander, if you cut me open—it's all you and Archie inside me. You're both all I have inside."

"Isa," Zander shut his eyes tight, as though her words pained him physically.

"Isa, Isa, Isa, my love," He groaned, opening his eyes and trapping her in an intense gaze. He rolled her over, pushing her down with both his arms now wrapped around her waist and back.

"You are mine, do you understand me? You and Archie are mine, and I will burn down the fucker who stands between us."

"Zander, no," Isadora hastened, both her hands holding his face above her. "The Duke doesn't matter, you don't need to hurt him for us. If you love us, please keep your focus on protecting the Kingdom."

"Isadora-"

"No, Zander, listen to me. I will deal with the Duke. I—," She broke off, swallowing. "I need to have a talk with Archie. I need to be honest with him. I have been hiding things from him. I need to tell him everything because I've hurt him with my decision too and he's—he's just a child, he doesn't deserve the heartache I've given him. He loves you and admires you so much, Zander."

She thought of a few hours ago, when after the attack on her, Archie had instantly spun away from her to run towards Zander, after merely hearing his name from in between her lips—not even caring to make sure whether the man standing in the darkness after saving his mama was even Zander or not. That was how much Archie cared for him, that was how much he relied on merely the thought of Zander being there.

Zander shut his eyes then, pressing his forehead against hers.

"I need to ask my son what he wants," Isa whispered, "I need to hear him say it. I need to do what he wants me to do, because I'm sure he wants what I want too."

Zander nodded then, slamming his lips on hers as he kissed her, pushing her lips apart as his tongue entered her mouth and met her own. She gripped his hair in between her fingers tight, holding onto to him as though she'd disintegrate if she let go.

"I will seek an annulment, Zander," Isadora continued, breaking the kiss, her heart swelling in her chest at her own words. "I'm so tired. I love you, and I don't want to hurt Archie and myself anymore."

"Do that," He spoke, kissing her again. "Do that, my love, and when Archie makes it clear that he chooses me, I'll marry you that fucking hour."

He met her eyes then, a dark determination swimming in his gaze as he put a hand on her cheek and caressed her jaw with his thumb.

"You're not going back to that estate. When you're my wife and Queen, I will finally be able to focus on finding those fucking attackers and burning them one by one just like they burnt Alopie, because I've become a shell of a fucking person without you. I need you like air, Isadora. I'm half of a fucking King without you."

Isa shut her eyes, willing tears away. The fairy godmother had been right from the start. Even though Zander won't directly put the blame on her, she had caused him severe hurt. She had caused him and Archie severe hurt. She didn't know anything about the incoming war the fairy godmother kept on predicting, but at present she knew that she had to be with Zander whenever it came. Without him by her, she wouldn't make it. And though she didn't yet know of what advantage she could bring to him in face of a war, she didn't want to leave him anymore. She didn't want to be without him anymore.

Leaning upwards to kiss his forehead, Isadora placed a feather light kiss on his cheek before meeting his gaze.

She considered something then. The Kingdom of Angria was supposed to be the driving force behind winning the war that the fairy godmother was predicting. The old fairy and her peers had seen the victory. Though what was happening in the kingdoms at present—the blind attacks and such—couldn't be rightly considered the incoming of a war per se, still, couldn't it help to be aware? To be prepared?

Isa had once considered warning Zander about the very thing when the fairy godmother had spoken of it first. But she had distilled the thought, for she hadn't even considered it her place to do so. She had waited and waited for that place, but it had been torn away from her. But now? Now she was sure of her place with Zander like she was sure of the moon hanging outside in the night sky.

"Zander, my love, I realize you don't want an alliance," She started softly, "But I think you should meet the fairy godmother."

***

A/N:
ok the smut? i tried to keep it as elegant as i could<3 see you in the next chapter!!