Today was the day I would be abdicating my throne. The day I would be giving up my throne for the love of my life. For Narelle.

I turned around and looked at my room one last time. Once I abdicated, this would no longer be my room, since I wouldn't be Crown Prince anymore. The room would go to the second in line—my brother, Faustus. He'd be glad to finally get the throne.

Memories started to fill my head as I looked at it. Memories of sleepless nights with Narelle, memories of deep talks with Narelle, memories of Narelle crying her heart out as I held her, memories of me crying my heart out as she held me together.

God, I could only think about Narelle. The moment Narelle had walked into my life, she had consumed me whole, and if there was one thing I knew for sure in this world, it was that I loved Narelle, and that she loved me.

I touched my hand to the door and took in a deep breath before pulling it away, revealing the crystalline halls of the palace.

My feet were the only sound as I walked the small distance to my father's chambers, and my heart pounded in my chest in a staccato rhythm. It felt so loud that I was sure it echoed through the empty hallway.

For Narelle.

The hall was empty and silent, and no one, save for me, was in it. Normally, at least a few people would be walking by, whether they were servants, noblemen, noblewomen, one of my mother's ladies-in-waiting or any of my siblings.

No one stood in front of my father's doors, the posts empty. My father was always in his room, and notified me every time he went out of it for a meeting or meal. Why was no one at the door?

Or, why didn't he tell me he was leaving?

I shook my head. Maybe the guards had taken a small break, and he was inside. Surely he wouldn't go anywhere without telling me, it wasn't custom. I was supposed to protect him, after all. I was supposed to put my life on the line before he put his, as Crown Prince.

My muscles shifted as I pushed the doors apart. "Father?" I called into the foyer.

No response.

"Father?" I called out again, voicing the word louder this time.

Again, no response.

Instead, the door to his bedroom chambers opened, and a sweating butler stumbled out.

I stopped the servant from leaving, and asked. "Where is His Majesty?"

The servant flicked his eyes to the right before answering. "His Majesty is in the right wing courtyard, Your Highness."

"Thank you." Was all I said before I walked out the doors.

I needed to find my father. Quickly. Otherwise my fear would grow, and I wouldn't get the courage to abdicate. Already, thoughts were swarming my head about it.

What if he kills you for it?

What if he doesn't let you abdicate?

What if he finds out you're abdicating for a girl? Much less one that's not of royal blood.

I didn't care that Narelle wasn't of royal blood. I didn't care whose blood ran through her veins. All I cared about was her. I cared about the girl I'd fallen in love with. The girl I planned to spend the rest of eternity with. The girl who I loved no matter what. The girl who loved me no matter what. The girl whose smile could brighten my day. The girl whose laugh could make all my worries decay. The girl whose nose scrunched up when she was happy. The girl who was so perfect, it was a wonder some nobleman hadn't noticed her and whisked her away to be his bride.

But I was glad some unknown nobleman hadn't whisked her away. Because then, I wouldn't have been able to meet this wonderful, strong, beautiful, kind woman.

God I loved Narelle.

The moment she'd accidentally spilled a cup of tea on me, I'd fallen in love. When she'd spilled that cup of tea on me, and I saw how she still remained fierce even as she was about to be executed at the hands of my father, how she apologised for making a mistake, but didn't apologise when she was forced to say she deserved to die, my life had been turned upside down in the best way possible. I had fallen in love with Narelle, whose spirit could lift me up, whose soul was a flame so bright that I was a mere moth drawn to it.

Thinking of Narelle left me wondering: why did it take so little time to reach the courtyard in the right wing of the palace? I was roomed at the left wing.

I supposed, love made one lose sense of time and reality.

The sun rained in a shower of gold, and as I started to walk to the centre of the large courtyard, sweat tickled my forehead, and I raised my arm to wipe it off.

A group of people crowded the centre, seeming to watch something.

Was my father holding an event?

I scoffed. Now, that was as unlikely as my father telling me—anyone—the words 'I love you.'

My boots scuffed the ground as I walked toward my father, toward the group of people.

"Father?" I called, shoving through the bodies until I saw what everyone was laughing at. Who they were laughing at.

Narelle.

There she was, silver hair glowing like gold, tears streaming from her eyes as she hung limp from a post, naked save for a bit of cloth around the middle of her body. Blood ran from her wrists and the scars marking her legs. Her head was bowed down, bruises running down her body, and I couldn't see much of her, but I knew. I wanted to cry, I wanted to punch my father for what he had done. I had never wanted to kill a man so bad. But now, I could picture the feel of my hands around his meaty neck, how his eyes would bulge as he started panicking, begging for mercy as his airways closed. I could picture the feel of his blood as I stabbed him, picture the wounds that would form as I tortured him as he had tortured my Narelle.

"Ah, Son, you're just in time."

I whirled at the voice of my father, and turned left to find him grinning. The grin could only mean one thing. That he knew.

My hands clenched and unclenched into fists. Narelle's wrists were hanging from a rope, bleeding as her weight sagged against it. She was on her knees, and her hair shielded her face in a curtain of silver. Her arms were on full display, showcasing her bruises, cuts and burns like trophies. My lower lip trembled, and I tried desperately to hold myself together. "Father–"

"Father what?" He sneered, circling Narelle with Wyrtill. Wyrtill was the name of his sceptre, whose head could be removed to become a spear.

"Father, stop." I clenched my hands into fists once again, and took a step forward. I would not let him hurt Narelle.

My mind whirled, trying to formulate a plan that would get both Narelle and me out of this place alive. At least, one that kept Narelle alive. But none came up that ended up with her escaping. If I attacked my father and—on some miracle—she managed to escape, she would be hunted down, and I'd be killed, being unable to help her get somewhere safe. If I tried distracting my father, tried to convince him to make it painful by making it slow, and tried to help her escape, then again, she would be hunted down. If Narelle managed to get the strength to hide somewhere in the sewers or servants quarters, alternating the places, she would still get caught. Her wounds would need to heal, and staying in such ghastly conditions would only encourage the wounds to not clot and infect. She would die of infection before they found her.

Think, think, think.

"Stop what, my dear son?" My father pouted at me. He traced his sceptre on the stone, making a screeching sound that grated.

Think, think, think, THINK, you idiot.

His sceptre crossed a gap in the stone, and my father momentarily paused.

I struck.

I leaped toward his sceptre, and swung out with my arms. His sceptre flew away, and he stood without it, grinning at me like he'd won. I pushed myself to my feet, and tried to tackle him, but he easily swerved. I tried punching him, and he blocked. I tried kicking him, and he dodged. I punched him again, and he caught my hand and pulled it backward.

"She kept denying that you loved her, you know?" He whispered into my ear, letting go of me.

I paused.

"What?"

"She kept telling us we got the wrong girl, that the prince loved a different bitch. Some courtier called Clara or Clarisse or something." My father's grin widened. "But you just proved her wrong."

And then it struck me.

When we had first confessed to each other, when we had officially got together six months ago, she'd been worried about us getting caught. We'd made a plan then and there so that we'd know what to do if it ever came to that. A plan where she'd keep denying no matter what, and where I'd agree that I didn't know her, and that I was in love with that courtier that my mother wanted me to marry. Clare, I think, was her name.

Fuck.

She was sticking to the plan. And I'd just ruined it all. I'd seen Narelle hurt, and I'd panicked.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She was going to die.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

And it was all my fault.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You will not give up. You're a damned Yerpen, you can do this.

As much as I wanted to curse my family's name at the moment, the Yerpens came from a line of warriors who probably went through worse than what I was going through now. I had to try for Narelle.

"I don't love her?" It was probably the most unbelievable lie ever, but I was trying.

A crows laugh crawled out of my father's mouth as he cackled. "Son," He wheezed, holding a hand to his stomach. "It'll be worse if you lie to me."

"Father, I have never met this woman before."

He caught his breath. "Never?"

"Never."

"You don't remember the time she spilled tea on you? How she wasn't executed because you decided that punishing her would be better than death?"

"I punish a lot of people, why would I want to remember their faces if they're a threat to me? My sole duty is to protect and serve you." It sounded monotonous, but the less emotion, the more chance Narelle wouldn't die.

My father smirked at me. "If you want to serve me..." He walked toward his sceptre and picked it up. He picked it up, and removed the top to reveal a spear head. "Then kill her." He handed Wyrtill to me.

No.

"Why must I kill her, surely an execution at a hand as fine as ours isn't necessary for such a simple woman."

Please let him believe it, please let him have a big enough ego.

"Kill her." All traces of the smirk he'd been wearing earlier had vanished. He forced the sceptre into my hands, shoving me by the collar toward her.

"Al," Narelle rasped.

"Narelle," I dropped the sceptre and rushed to her. There was no point in pretending now.

My blood began to boil. Up close, she looked much worse. So much worse.

What had my father done?

"I'm so sorry, my love." A single tear fell from my cheek and hit the ground. "Now listen to me," I cupped her cheek with one hand as a tear slid down her face. "You won't die. Not today. Not unless I have anything to say about it. I can fix this, we can sti–"

"Alaric, stop." She whispered.

I stopped.

"I- I- It's okay." She choked. Her mouth formed a grim line as she tried to smile.

"Darling, it's not oka–"

"I knew this would happen, Al, it was inevitable. It was always meant to happen. We were always meant to die." Her head bowed, her lips trembling as she silently sobbed.

"Narelle I love you, only you. Forever and always, remember?" Tears streaked my face. She wasn't supposed to be talking like that. She wasn't supposed to be talking like she was about to die. She would live. We would get to live in that small house we'd always dreamed of, with our three children whose names would be Alexander, Valentine and Rose. 'I want a boy child' she'd said that day, we were lying in each other's arms, dreaming of our future. 'Well, I want two girls' I'd nuzzled her nose. 'Triplets, then' Narelle had said, her eyes so bright that my heart cracked seeing her so happy. We were supposed to have a future. We were supposed to have three kids and a cat. We were supposed to die happy and old, in each other's arms. She wasn't supposed to go first.

"Alaric... I love you." She pushed her head into my face, and I stumbled backward.

A group of guards caught me by the arms, and dragged me away from her. "NARELLE–" A scream was ripped from my throat as I was taken away from Narelle.

"NARELLE–" I screamed again as my father picked up Wyrtill.

"Goodbye." I heard her whisper over the roar in my head.

I was sobbing, my muscles ached, my head pounded, and my heart completely shattered as my father raised Wytrill above his head and pushed the spear head into her delicate throat.

"NO," My throat burned. My chest heaved as tears kept streaming and streaming. Blood spurted from her neck, her body lifeless, delicate eyes staring blankly at the dying grass.

I managed to break free too late, and scrambled to her limp body. My hands shook as I reached for her, as I held up her sagging body. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no."

She couldn't be gone. No. She couldn't die. Not yet. Not when she had so much of her life ahead of her. Not when I needed her. Not when it was supposed to be me who was supposed to be punished. She shouldn't have had to die for my decisions. Shouldn't have had to die for the choice I took in loving her. I didn't regret loving her. I only regretted not abdicating sooner. Only regretted not being able to save her. Only regretted not telling her I loved her sooner. I would never regret loving Narelle.

A lump formed in my throat as I realised she wouldn't be able to hear me say 'I love you' again. She wouldn't be able to live to see that perfect future of ours. The future where we had our three children and the cat, the one where she'd sing our children to sleep, the one where she'd laugh as I messed up trying to cook as she taught me, the one where we would be able to hug each other and only worry about whether our children were asleep or not.

But that was all gone.

That future was now just a dream. Something that couldn't happen. All because of me.

I clutched her body, and breathed her in. She still smelt like her—like sugary candied apples with a hint of smoke and ash.

I should've gone instead. It should've been me. My father killed her to punish me. He somehow found out I loved her, and instead of punishing me, he hurt my Narelle. He was cruel. He knew killing her would kill me.

I was on my knees, clutching her body to mine.

I held her body for hours.

Held her, as people started to leave.

Held her as clouds began to block the sun.

Held her as rain poured, and her body started to turn cold.

Held her as the sun began to set, and the moon replaced it, stars winking to life.

I would've held her for eternity, but a pair of guards pulled me away.

I fought. I tried holding her, tried saying goodbye, tried to take her with me. But the guards held strong, and led me to my rooms.

Locking me away from Narelle.