Her Royal Highness, Queen Juliette of Huskanary looked the part; the wrong part – a person who was dying. Gone was the regal gowns of Alexander McQueen, the diamonds worth millions, the beautiful face she was known for by her devoted subjects. Gone. Now, with her sunken cheeks, hollow eyes and make-up free face, no one would guess she was the queen of a country. She was a shell of who she once was, though that was what cancer did to – slowly, ever so slowly, it ate at you from the inside, tearing apart your life, yet you didn’t even realise. A week ago, she’d been sitting on her throne, sorting through paperwork. Now? Now, she was lying in a hospital bed – a very expensive hospital bed, at that – waiting for the cancer to take her. Waiting to die–

“Your Highness?”

She turned to the sound of the unknown voice, her doctors fussing over the fact that she’d moved. Though she was used to the attention and care she received from doctors, she didn’t see the point anymore. She was dying. In hours, days or even minutes she would disappear from the world, her body left to be mourned by the Huskanary people.

“Yes?” she asked, though her voice was grave, barely heard over the beeping of the machines keeping her alive. She was glad no one would see her like this. She didn’t want to be remembered as someone who lay on a hospital bed, encompassed by death. No, she wanted to be remembered as the soft-hearted queen, the first queen to rule without her husband (he had died in an airplane crash on the way to a business meeting 15 years ago). She was an advocate for women’s right. Not someone who collapsed under the cruelty of cancer.

She heard a voice reply and forced herself to pay attention; she’d missed most of what he’d said to her. “. . . wishes to see you, your Highness.”

“Oh, yes. Tell them to come in,” she said, figuring she could tell whoever it was to leave if she had to. Even on her death bed she was still sovereign.

The security guards expression didn’t change; he just bowed his head in ascent. “Right away, Highness.”

As he opened the door, she sat up to see who it was – or tried to,at least. She blamed the doctors – “No, Your Highness, you must not strain yourself.” But the truth of the matter was that her body simply wasn’t strong enough; her bones felt heavy, her motivation drained. And if the face that she was dying didn’t depress her enough, that sure did. When she was younger she imagined she’d die strong – how her mother had passed away: stubborn to the end, making jokes until her last breath. But, no. She’d die depressed, missed opportunities galore. She shut her eyes in exhaustion, too tired to front strength. Whoever came in, she’d recognise by voice or force her eyes open.

“Your Highness? Are you well? Do you need water? Food?” There was a pause, then the voice became worried. “Jules? Jules! Oh, god, please don’t be dead.”

Her eyes flipped open of their own accord, a smile crossing her face – though it didn’t last long. even her face felt painful. As she looked over Marcus – her guard of five years, until his unfair firing – she felt her mood brighten. He had started out too formal and too disconnected from her, but over the years he had warmed up to her. Though he had felt the same thing. He’d thought she’d been pompous – everyone was beneath her – but over time they’d grown close. She was her best friend; any problem with court she came to him. Though he was not a noble or figure head, his time as a guard had been full of watching. He knew almost everything about everyone.

His relief was palpable; a smile turning his hard face gentle. “Hey, Julie. You okay?”

She turned to the doctors in the room and said, “Leave us.” The personal conversation she was about to have didn’t need an audience. Once they were gone she turned her head to the side looking at Marcus’s handsome face, still the same as the last time she’d seen him. His blue eyes that made women fall to his feet were sad, his mouth turned down into a frown. His eyes were clinical as they ran over her body, and his face fell when he saw the state she was in. Wanting to distract him from how terrible she looked, she held out her hand. He immediately grabbed it, holding at is if was the most precious thing in the world. The thought saddened her so she didn’t dwell on it.

She felt his hand brush her hair – too careful for her liking – as he said, “How are you?” in a gentle voice she hated; he was treating her as if she was breakable.

Though she felt like fronting, she decided to be honest. This was someone who she cared for immensely; lies between them didn’t happen. “Awful.” Her voice was hoarse and she broke into a coughing fit, but as he laughed it made it all worth it.

“Well you look like it.” He smiled at her tenderly, tightening his grip on her hand. Abruptly, his expression fell. As if he realised how bony her hand was, how sunken her body was. That she would be dead soon and he’d never be able to see her again. “Julie, it’s okay. I’ll be here when it happens; you won’t be alone.”

No, she thought. I’m going to die alone. “That’s not –” She broke off as she coughed loudly before continuing. “Not worried about that.” Her daughter weighed heavily on her mind. Her daughter, who she never met, and never would. And didn’t that depress her. Her daughter would become the princess of Huskanary; she’d be alone in court. Contrary to the belief of the public the men and women in court were cruel and merciless; they preyed on weakness. Her daughter would not know how to act, not know what to say. She’d have no one to help her learn the customs. Her own mother had been there every step of the way, correcting her when she was wrong. God, she was throwing her daughter to the wolves.

As if reading her mind Marcus said, “Don’t worry. I will be with her at all times. I don’t care if those bastards try to kill me, I will not leave her side. I will be her guard, mentor, everything you can possibly think of. She will not be alone. I will love her and protect her.” His voice was hard, resolved; she knew he was serious.

Lost for words she stayed silent. Marcus fell silent as well, leaving her to her own thoughts. They stayed in silence for the next hour, the only sounds being her heavy breathing and the beeping of the machines.

When she started to feel her hand go numb, she panicked. She squeezed her hand in Marcus’ but it wouldn’t respond. She couldn’t move it. It wouldn’t move! She struggled for breath as panic started to rise. Her arm started to go numb. Then her feet. To her leg. Her torso. No! Her daughter! As panic set in, Marcus appeared in her line of sight. As she held his eyes, her heart started to calm–

Until she thought about her daughter. Oh god, her daughter. She’d never see her. She tried to speak, but it came out broken and wheezy. “Please . . . help– her . . .– alone– . . . alone . . . she’s alone– help her . . . please– they’re cruel . . . they’ll eat her, and s-spit her out– help . . . won’t know–” Hysteria started to creep in.

Marcus’ voice invaded her ears; hard and resilient. “Stop. She will not be alone. She will never be alone. I will be wish her at all times. They will not hurt her. Ever. I would let it happen. Find peace knowing she will be safe. Protected. I will protect her. I swear it on my life. I’ll love her as if she were my own. Nobody will hurt her. I will hurt the person who tries.”

“Thank– you . . .”

Oh, god. Darkness. Darkness was creeping in. No! “Hold . . . my hand . . . please . . . love you.” The light! Come back!

She felt lips on her forehead, and knew without a doubt that Marcus had her hand. His voice was hoarse, as if his throat was tight. “I know Julie. I know. Genetics be fucked, you are my sister. No blood can take that away– Shhh. Close your eyes. Breathe–” She could hear his tears, and it broke her already shattered heart. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m with you. I love you. Not going anywhere; I’ll be right there haunting you. Close your eyes and let yourself go. Know your daughter is safe.”

For the first time since her coronation 30 years ago, Juliette cried. She cried ugly tears, her sobs like punches. Her throat hurt, her body was on fire, her lungs burned . . . she couldn’t breathe! No! She couldn’t die! As the world started to fade to black, all she could think about was her daughter. The daughter she’d never see. Never hug. Never see laugh . . . or smile. The sobs came hard as punches now. The black! No! I love you, my daughter. I love you . . .