"You cannot leave me!" Eliza cried.

"I am sorry, but I must," I said.

"No! I want you here!" She clawed at my armor in my hands as I sat it near her chamber door.

"My love, please!" I said. "Lower your voice. His Majesty is in his study, just down the hall."

"I do not want you to go..." She sucked in a sharp breath, retreating to the chaise. "You promised me you'd remain at my side."

"And I will," I said. "I will return to it as I always do, but I cannot fight a war from a tower. I must go. I must be there for my men."

"What of us?" She tugged my hand to her womb. "You wish to leave us?"

I breathed, slowly, kneeling in front of her. "I will come home to you," I promised. "To you both. It's only but a week, maybe two."

"This time," she muttered.

"And last time, yes?" I reminded her. "But I came back. Didn't I? Besides, we've seen longer."

"You had more guards then. Real Knights. Now what are they? A mix of farm and ostler boys? Barely old enough to separate their games from life? And I'm to entrust them to protect you? No!"

"Yes," I sang. "As they trust me to protect them. Perhaps they are boys now, I don't know. Maybe some are men, but I can make them soldiers... Just not from here. They need more than just to hear of my name. They need to see my face. See my horse. My sword. They cannot serve effectively if they do not have an effective leader who serves. You must try to understand, I do not leave because I want to. I leave because I must. I must head the charge. I have no other choice."

"And if I go into labor while you're gone?"

"That is far too early to consider that."

"If I?"

"Then send for me and I will come." I wasn't even sure I could, or if I was lying, but it was what she wanted to hear. "Write to me. I will write to you."

"Every day," she demanded, pursing her mouth.

"Yes, my Queen," I teased. I wet my lips, touching her face. "I will write to you every day, and you will write to me every day, and I will come home fueled by the fire of a thousand suns, and I will make love to you just as passionately."

"And if the baby comes? You'll come home?" she parroted.

"Yes," I said. I stood, bringing her up with me, and charioting us towards the bed. "But he will not. He will come next month as predicted by the midwife, and I will be home then, and I will not leave you again for as long as I can manage."

Then she said something that I believe we both had been avoiding. "What if he looks like you?"

"If he looks like me?" I mulled over it.

If the child looked like me, we both knew there would be Hell to pay. Unless, somehow he had taken completely after his mother's complexion, though that had never been the case for the faces in my family. I looked down at the skin on my hands. "What would you ask of me?" I asked. I didn't know what to say.

I think a piece of me had always assumed the child would be His Majesty's. That the Lord would protect us for some undetermined reason, sins aside. Eliza had the opposite idea. She believed that because I was the 'better man,' God would copy me. Copy my soul, and put that into the world. Not more of the monarch she had grown to believe was a monster.

"What do I ask of...?" She scoffed. "As if I know!"

Eliza groaned, writhing beneath me. Her eyes soured.

"Shh," I tried. "It isn't something we must argue over," I told her. "Stay here with me. Don't venture into what ifs now. It is the eve of battle, and I wish to be close to you."

She huffed.

"'Liza," I buzzed, leaning closer. I brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear and smirked, impishly. "Let me be close to you. To my Queen. You can resume hating me in the morning before I leave, but for now, love me."

"I do not hate you ever," she whispered as I made my descent down her neck. "That's precisely the problem here."

"Fine..." I sat up. "I'll bite your hook. If the child looks like me... We'll... What? Run away?"

She croaked a loud, boisterous laugh. "From this room? You'll have to carry me."

"Oí, then I have no suggestions. What do you think we should do? Pretend we don't notice? Heh."

"Gregor..." She narrowed her eyes, fixing her gaze. "Would you?"

"Notice? Yes."

"No... Would you run away with me?"

I shrugged. "I would do whatever you asked of me."

"No you wouldn't," she challenged. "Your whole life is here. Your career. Your friends... Your Oath. Your everything."

"At risk of sparking yet another insult to my charming personality," I sang. "You are my everything. If you ran away from here, I should be forced to follow you."

"Where would we go? All the states are loyal to His Majesty."

"Where would we–?"

She leapt from the bed and paced across the room, clenching and unclenching a hand. "Mine is a very recognizable face," she said. "One that would likely fetch a high reward, and in tandem with the price on your head, I suspect, we would make a very large, very attractive target. People would notice us. Perhaps if I changed my hair?"

"Have you... been considering this for long?" It was obvious she had.

"Do you not agree?" she asked. "I do think it would be rather difficult to find somewhere we could retire safely. Don't you?"

"Sweetheart," I heard myself say. I moved to the edge, turning my hand open for hers. "Come to bed."

"...We could escape to Chalke," she said quietly.

"Yes, the country we're at war with. I'm certain they'll grant us fair refuge," I laughed. "Especially me, their enemy's face, and you, its heart."

"You said you would follow me." Her face bent.

"Aye, I did," I said, slowly and sure. I stood from the mattress and collected her into my embrace, holding her tightly against my chest. "I would follow you into the darkest depths of any abyss. But these are things we do not need to burden ourselves with until they come to pass."

"It's important to have a plan." She found me. "You know how I feel about plans."

"Yes, I know." I kissed her forehead and scooped her into my arms.

She shrieked, "Gregory!"

I dropped her back onto the sheets. "You should trust your sword. If we should find ourselves in need of fleeing,... I do know a different way into Chalke. A path near-forgotten."

She paused. After a second, she batted her eyes at me. "Of course you do." She hummed, bringing her lips into her mouth and letting them out again. "I will miss you. Dearly, you know?"

"Be here with me now. And if the day we run comes, may it be long after I have returned home to you."

January is harsh enough as it is in Oreia without the War, without the mountains, and without the ache of loneliness. Still, guided by the ethereal glow of Eliza's favor inside of my armor; the bleak, moody hour before lights-out every evening felt somehow warm. We would stop to make a new camp every day or few of travel, and it wasn't long before the week forged itself into three.

I scribed her a letter every chance I could.

Sweet Rose,

I was happy to receive the inserts you made for my gloves. My hands split this morning from the frost, ironically as I was opening the very package. I am forever grateful for your foresight. I miss you terribly. We should be home soon.

Yours.

And we did return. Luckily in time to arrive ...very close to the moment of your birth.

"AhhhhhHhhh!"

I heard Eliza scream the instant I walked in the front door; home. I dropped my bags to draw my sword, the natural instinct, but several maids sailed by me in a complete and utter flurry that they had no time to realize I had become on guard. They were carrying cloths and basins of water, chatting brightly amongst each other.

"Do we think it might be a boy?"

"Oh, a boy! His Majesty will be so proud!"

"But a girl would be very pretty!" another sang.

"Yes, very pretty. And we will braid her hair!"

"A moment," I pled, snaring one of them. "You speak of a child. Is Her Majesty in labor?"

"Is she in labor, he asks?" the maid laughed, twirling to face me, but not slowing in her gallop. "Can you not hear the screams or do you think she's doing that for fun, Ser?"

I hesitated outside her door, my hand trembling near the handle; my heart cast war upon itself. I listened, trying to be sure, but with the next wail, she was in such pain, such brutal pain, I could not resist the call, and I went in.

His Majesty was next to her side, and, rightfully concerned with my arrival, but the tension he felt was evident. His expression shifted from surprise to relief, and he stepped my way, clamping his hand onto my shoulder. "The mission was successful, I see. How many did we lose?"

Eliza groaned; she screamed, her legs on either side of her, and I had to pry myself from her contorted face to address the King properly. "Aye," I think my eyes were wider than they'd ever been, and I wasn't sure if the Queen had even noticed me. "We lost... uh. Thirty?"

"Grand. Come," he nodded. "We shall plan our next attack." He started to lead me towards the door.

"Shouldn't you remain here?" I asked.

He glanced over his shoulder, considering. "Well she's been at it for a few hours?"

"Your Maj–"

"Elías?!" Eliza screamed. "Is that ...?" She panted between words, her eyes fluttering. "Is that my Knight?"

"Yes, love," the King said.

"Is he... Are you well?" she muttered, asking me. "Is he hurt?" she asked him.

The King replied in my stead. He shrugged, looking over me. "He appears to be in one piece."

"A-aye," I said. "One piece."

He trudged on, passing. "Are you coming?"

"Perhaps you should stay? For Her Majesty's sake? The child's?"

"Yes!" Eliza cried. "Please, please stay. I need you!"

"I will be back," he tried. "But a moment, I need to gather some–"

"Your Majesty!" It came out of me as half a hiss, half a scolding whisper.

"Breathe, Your Majesty," one of the girls sang to my Queen.

Instead of anger though, he sighed knowingly, and he returned to the chair beside Eliza's bed.

"That's it," the maid said. "You're doing great. Look! His Majesty is here, ready to meet his heir."

The King leaned back, sighing at me. "You're right. Again. As you always are, my friend."

I gave Her Majesty a soft glance, His Majesty a stern nod, and then turned to leave but–

"—Oh, you're not going anywhere," he said. "If I must stay, so must you. Come. Tell me of the front."

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