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Trisha POV

"We will... manage," I managed to say, watching him nod slowly.

"This side," he spoke slowly, strolling towards the other side of the bed. I heard him clearing his throat before he sat down and mutter.

"I am not feeling sleepy," he inhaled deeply, and I looked away for a moment. What did he mean by that?

"Oh," I muttered and sat on the bed's edge. It was way too comfortable.

I kept staring at the glass of milk as silence followed. After a good time, I dared to turn my head, and my eyes widened with shock before a wave of calm ran into my body. He was asleep. His face was on the other side, and I immediately looked at the milk's glass.

He had to drink it first.

I gulped and shifted slightly closer to him.

"Yuvraj," I called him slowly, but he did not answer. I bit on my lips and tried to call him again. "Yuvraj,"

He still did not answer, and I gulped nervously before touching his arm.

"Your milk is getting cold," I said, but he did not move an inch.

"Yuvraj, your milk!" I exclaimed in a slightly higher voice, and he inhaled a deep breath before turning his head to me. His face was sleepy, and the wavy curls of his hair fell on his forehead as he shook his head.

"I do not want," he said, and I gulped, lowering my gaze a little.

I turned back to look at the milk again, and some of me did not want it to go to waste. I hated wasting anything.

"Yuvraj," I called out again and looked at him.

"What?" he asked, opening his eyes, and I said.

"Drink your milk," I said in determination. He stared at me momentarily before palming his face, letting out a frustrated groan, and finally sitting up.

"Fine!" His fine did not seem fine at all.

Though, I ignored it and passed him his glass.

He took it and quickly drank it in one go. He was fast enough that a few drops and one trail of milk flew down his chin.

"Happy," he exhaled, finishing it and placing it in my hand.

"Very," I said and leaned towards the table to place the glass on the table.

Meanwhile, I noticed him move a little, and suddenly, the candles near the table blew off. The darkness wrapped me like a thick comforter. Even the curtains hanging around the bed did not let any brightness invade.

The silence was killing. I could hear the minute noise of my breathing.

Without looking at him, I stretched my legs long and slowly leaned back to get into the bed.

"You did not drink milk?" he said suddenly, and I immediately turned to look at his side. Only a little brightness of the moonlight managed to come in through the tiny holes in the window.

"Um, I forgot," I managed to say, remembering that I did forget drinking it.

"You should drink it, too," he said in a slow voice, and I stared at his face before nodding. It was not an order, not a request, though. He made a polite suggestion, and I just let it go.

"Okay," I muttered, sat up, and leaned to hold the glass. It was almost cold, and I drank it slowly. I could feel his eyes watching me, especially my neck.

I finished and wiped my mouth.

"You like drinking milk?" he asked in a low voice. It was way too silent between us.

"Yes," I breathed. "Sometimes," I added, unsure if we should be talking at this late hour.

"You do not?" I asked, wondering if his dislike of milk was the reason he asked.

"Sometimes not," he replied slowly, and I inhaled deeply before laying back and pulling my braid beneath me to be comfortable.

Speaking of comfort, I was feeling it at its worst.

Sleeping in a cave and tent was different than this. The chamber was huge; no one could hear us talk, and we would never if we did other things. Too.

"Why not?" I managed to ask. The nervousness was making it impossible for the sleepiness to come. "The Kings need power to rule," I said, turning my face towards him. I was lying on my back. "Especially the ones who wish to fight," I hesitated to add, and he stared at me silently before bringing his hand closer to mine but not touching it.

"You also think that... war is for fools?" he asked in a slow voice, and I looked away for a moment.

"I know nothing of wars. But...," I turned my face to him. "I can tell you what loneliness feels and when and how it becomes solace," I said, feeling his finger touch mine.

"Tell me," he breathed, and I looked up at the ceiling. I could notice our broken, scattered reflection through the thousand tiny mirrors. In one broken piece, I could see his finger touching mine—just the tip of over the middle of my index finger. I gulped and slowly pulled my hand back.

The silence spread like stars in the sky. Like they were burning but looked alluring to the eyes.

"Loneliness feels like waking up alone in the morning, wondering how it would feel to wake up with someone. Sometimes, it's due to nightmares, sometimes it's due to too much cold or heat, and sometimes, you just wake up only to remember that you are alone. Opening your eyes, you find no one around you. You would stand up on your own; you would walk out of the home and see the lonely trees standing close to each other but not able to hug. You find the sun alone, rising, spreading its warmth and light around, hoping that someone might hug him back. You see the water in the pond still, the rocks never move, and everything is always the same," my breath stopped as his finger touched mine again. I blinked nervously, and my heartbeats raced as he moved a little closer to me.

"And?" he almost whispered.

"And," I bit on my lip. "And, you just walk through time doing things that never make sense—always wondering where you are going and never moving. For days, you think it will change, but you fail to believe that this could be all. But, one day, you realise it is it. All of these are the only things you will ever get; all of these are the things where you are meant to come. And, once you wake to see the sun out again, see the trees staring at you, to notice the still water in the pond, yet again, but the thunder in your heart is calm, it becomes solace," I said slowly and turned my face to look at him.

He was staring at me and knit his brow for a moment before bringing his hand closer and feathering my palm with his fingers before finally intertwining them loosely. He closed his eyes to inhale deeply.

"Sometimes people are born with this fortune, but other times it is forced upon them," I exclaimed, almost whispering, and he opened his eyes to look back at me.

"Forced upon them?" he asked.

"The ones who lose their close ones to... the wars. It's only two people who cannot settle for peace, and the soldiers lose their lives. Meanwhile, their family, wholeheartedly... broken heartedly, awaits them. Every day, they would wake up, hoping they would come back; they get lonely but never find... solace," I finished, and he broke eye contact for a moment.

"It's their... work," he muttered, and I inhaled deeply.

"Because they do not have anything else to do. The wives wait for them for years to feel their... touch. Their children were born and wed unknown to them while they kept serving the monarchs. They... are treated like trees. Standing there but never able to hug each other," I said, and he shifted himself closer to me, slightly hovering and shaking his head slowly.

"No, they are not. I... I believe they are happy this way," he said, and I could not help but notice his face. His eyes shone brighter amid the darkness, and I shook my head.

"Their wives are not," I breathed in. They...," I gulped with unsteady breaths. They long for their... husbands," my voice shook. Their children do not know how... their father looks," I managed to finish, and he gulped, knit his brows, and pulled my knees up when he leaned in closer.

"How do you know that?" His question turned me silent. My breath hitched when I felt one side of the overcoat of my night dress fall down my knees. We were both inside the comforters, and it made me slightly uncomfortable.

"My friend," I sucked on my lips. "Her husband is in the army," I managed to say, and I could feel his eyes boring into mine. They were making me feel weak. I did not know why.

"His children do not know how their father... looks," I managed to add, and he came closer. I could sense the hesitation in his movements, and he shook his head.

"I did not know about it," his words were low in voice, and he breathed, "Children," lowering his gaze to my lips.

I could feel my heart stop when he leaned in closer slowly and almost touched my lips with his. I bit on them, unable to be touched. He was younger than me. And, a Prince. And, a marriage...

"Children," his voice was not above a whisper, but it sent a shiver down my spine.

And, a marriage for the children existed between us.

"Do you think... we shoul—"

"Yes," I breathed before collecting my thoughts on this. The promises we made to each other before our wedding began to alarm in my head.

"But I know nothing... of what to do," I managed to say, and I felt his feet touching mine. I could not stop myself from rolling my toes.

He shook his head. I could feel his breaths shallowing, too. I did not know what was happening to me.

"Um, I do not know much either," he said, lowering his gaze to my lips again; our foreheads touched, and I heard him stutter.

"I know... I mean the... the that has to go,"

"I know," I cut him off and closed my eyes. It's right," I breathed. Your fath-," I lost my voice. His father needed a child.

His heartbeats were almost audible now.

"I know we should... do it faster," he whispered, and I fisted, wondering what I should do.

"What should... I do?" I managed to ask. My voice was shaky and breathless.

"The... dress," he breathed; I felt him shifting closer to me, his leg slipping between mine, and suddenly, he lost his balance and fell almost over me.

My eyes shut closed, feeling nervous and uneasy.

"Dress," I said in an absolutely low voice and took my hand inside the comforter.

"I think you should... pull it up... a little," his words made me feel flushed but thankfully he could not see it.

We could only feel each other.

My fingers trembled as I parted the overcoat and pulled the inner dress up. My body was slightly shaking, and I was unable to calm myself.

He was feeling no different. His breaths were audible now, and I felt him taking his fingers close to his lower.

My gaze lowered to his chest, and he immediately said. "Do... do not look... down,"

I immediately lifted my gaze. His eyes were closed. His lips were trembling. I moved my hand away from my inner thighs when I felt him finished fighting with his lower.

My eyes shut, too.

"I think... I am ready," he whispered over my lips, and I fisted my hand on the bed sheet. I did not know what to expect.

My heart was ready to jump out of my chest at any moment. And my breath hitched when he shifted closer between my legs.

"I think... you sh... should widen your legs," he breathed, and my mouth opened as I felt his knuckles brushing mistakenly against my inner thighs.

"Ohh," I managed to say, opening my leg a little.

"Uhmm," he inhaled deeply, and I lay frozen when he touched me. I did not know how to explain it. It was hot and harrowing.

"Whe... where?" he asked in a slow voice and my brows knit in confusion.

"Umm, ah, I do not know," I managed to say. I could hardly breathe, let alone think and speak.

"Ohh," he pressed his forehead against the side of my head, and I bit my lips when I felt him poking into my untouched region.

He tried to push himself into me, and suddenly, it slipped, and my heartbeats stopped, and he breathed unevenly. I could hear his breath dripping into my ear, making me feel different—something I could not comprehend.

"Did it go... inside?" he asked, and I opened my eyes. I tried to feel myself, but I felt nothing.

"I do not think so," I managed to whisper, and he lifted himself again.

"Ohh, okay, it's... getting painful," he muttered, and I lifted my gaze to look into his eyes. I did not know, but in the darkness, I was able to look into them.

His brows were knit, dark, and long. His forehead was broad, and a trail of sweat lowered down the curve of his cheek through the side, above his ear. His nose was pointy, and when he brought himself insanely closer to me again, I could feel it touch my cheek. His upper lip was medium and had a deep cupid's bow that always managed to catch my eyes. His lower lips were fuller, and they were as dark as the shade of beetroot.

"Urgh," he breathed in deeply, and my breaths stopped.

I felt him poking into me again, and it was shaking me. I tried to calm myself amid the new feelings and sensations. It felt as if someone was poking a stone at me.

My mouth hung open, and suddenly, a low hiss escaped my lips when it went in.

"Annnhh," my voice broke, and my eyes shut closed. My whole body froze. My nerves ached, and my heartbeats stopped. It hurts.

I inhaled deeply, and my hand was immediately pushed against his chest. "Ahhhouchh," I could not stop myself. It was painful!

"Did it hurt?" he asked in a shaky breath. I managed to look into his eyes before nodding. My eyes tore up, and he exhaled deeply.

"I think... it's supposed to feel good," he muttered, and I shook my head. It was hurting. It felt like he tore me apart.

"Ohhh, I am sorry," he immediately pulled himself back, and I quickly pressed my thighs together.

"I am so sorry. I did not know it hurt," he breathed. I could not help but turn my face to the side.

"I am sorry. I think... I should... go, leave," he blabbered, and I palmed my mouth.

What the hell just happened?

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