To Wed A King

On His Knees

Lucan watched Adeline as she slowly went to the floor, her hair sprawling on the floor, her side hitting it. Her blood slowly stained the floor and coated it in bright red hue, the arrow still sticking in her side.

Hushed murmurs filled the entire arena, but Lucan did not move, his fists clenching hard as he watched her slowly close her eyes. He bit down on his lip but said nothing, neither did any of his soldiers move.

"Your Highness? What shall we do?" Angel asked, coming in front of him.

Lucan did not reply for the longest time, his breaths ragged, the blood rushing to his ears.

Without a word, he turned away, his steps slow.

"Your Majesty!" Evander yelled, risking everything.

Lucan's soldiers immediately closed in on Evander, the black material coming over his face again, his hands tied behind him. He continued to yell, but his voice was muffled, and soon enough, it grew distant as he was taken away.

Lucan stopped, his eyes closing. He could not believe that a woman had looked him in the eye and chosen to die. It did mot matter how gruesomely he conquered a woman, she submitted. She wanted him. How dare this woman choose anything in life as long as it was not him? How dare her?

He turned to her, his eyes thin and dark. She was on the floor, the blood minimal ssinde rhe arrow was still in her stomach. It was not a fatal position, but it would render her immobile for quite some time.

With slow steps, he walked back, then stopped right in front of her and took a deep breath. He hated her with everything, bruising his ego so many times. But the more she resisted, the more he wanted to see her completely enamoured.

The stronger her resistance, the stronger he needs to see her compete for a place in his bed. With a resolve to make her want him no matter what happened, he slowly went on his knees.

He had never been on his knees for anyone or anything. And definitely not a woman. Definitely not one who had obviously shown her hatred towards him.

"Your Majesty," Angel said, his voice low, his eyes wide.

Lucan closed his eyes and took in a sharp breath, then slowly brought his hands to Adeline. He put his hands under her knees, then another carefully under her back. Carefully avoiding the arrow, he picked her up from the floor, her blood staining his robes.

Angel watched, his eyes wide. He had never seen Lucan go so low.

Lucan turned and walked away from the arena, Adeline in his arms, her right hand dangling off, her hair falling back in graceful, blood-stained strands.

Angel immediately pulled the soldiers away and followed behind Lucan, leaving the people who had gathered to watch clamouring for the food on display.

"Bring the royal physician of Perla. Let him have her in a condition to travel, and we shall set out for Vahrenhall," Lucan said as he arrived at the palace Inn, Adeline still resting in his arms.

Angel immediately nodded and headed out, while Lucan continued on his way down the long hallways towards his own personal chamber. Not just the chamber he had gotten wasted in last night, but the chamber that had been decorated and reserved for his use.

Claude was in the room, wearing one of the red outfits she had used her entire salary on. It was a revealing little thing, her thighs, and most of her chest was on teasing view. She had lit up candles and filled the place with the scent of lavender and an aphrodisiac, with small, beautiful flowers hanging on every side of the bed.

Her smile fell as Lucan walked in, Adeline in his arms. Her lips parted as she took him in, her chest heaving, her eyes blinking rapidly to keep the tears from falling.

"Your... Your Majesty, I..."

"Get out," he said simply, then moved to the bed and carefully placed Adeline in bed.

"Yes, Your Majesty. I apologize." She started to walk away when Lucan turned to her.

"Prepare a lukewarm bowl of water, an ointment, and some bandages. And a bath."

Claude nodded, then bowed and walked away, her lips sucked in, her eyes filled with tears. How is it that a new woman who had not done anything at all was already taking her place?

Never in her life had she seen Lucan pick a woman in his arms. Not even her, and she had fainted once right in front of him.

She closed her eyes tight, then sighed. He had moved out of the way so she would not fall on him, and she had been held up by Angel instead.

She bit down on her lips again, then headed towards the cookhouse to prepare some water.

Once it was done, she returned to Lucan's chambers with the bowl, a dry towel, bandages, and ointment.

She set it on the small table, then bowed. "Shall I bring a meal, Your Majesty?"

Lucan took in Adeline. Even if she woke up tonight, the most she would be able to eat would be broth.

"Prepare a broth for her," Lucan said.

"Your Majesty, I meant to ask about your meal. She, after all, is..."

"Is what?" He asked, looking up, meeting Claude's eyes.

She swallowed. "I apologize. I was just..."

"Prepare a broth for her and get out."

Claude swallowed, then bowed and slowly walked away, her eyes flicking to Adeline, her fists clenched. She stood outside for a long while, her chest heaving with brewing jealousy and hatred, her eyes filling with tears.

"What does she have that I do not?" She asked, her voice low, her eyes staring off at the wall right opposite her.

There were no answers for her, and she sighed, then walked away, hoping that Adeline would not make it out alive.

Lucan watched Adeline, his eyes squinted. She was breathing slowly, and he wondered what was taking the physician so long. He, or course could treat her would, but he had only worked on himself a couple of times. He wanted to make sure her spirit would not gaze upon him, happy that she had won.

He stood up and stalked towards the door, his chest heaving, his hands clasped behind him. Angel still had not returned. It was very unlike Angel, and unless there was some sort of problem with the royal physician, he would have returned.

The sun was setting, and by now, she was breathing even slower than before, her face becoming even paler. The broth Claude had brought had gone cold on the table.

His fists clenched, and he slowly walked back to the bed. He leaned over her, then placed a hand on her chest. Her heartbeat was slow, just like her breathing. He let out a sting of curses and took her pulse from her neck. Unstable.

He got off the bed and walked back towards the door. The soldiers guarding him were the only people around the long hallway.

"Go find Angel," he said to two of them before going back inside.

He did not have much time before it became critical. And that would amount to him losing. He had not gone on his knees, staked his cards, and let her humiliate him in front of the people of a foreign country just for him to watch her die and win. There was absolutely no way.

Slowly, he removed his coat and then brought the water close. The towel was dry, and he sent for a big roll of wool. Once it was brought, he sighed, then slowly leaned close to her. She was still breathing.

He grabbed the bed sheets, then lay them on her, before slowly removing the large clothesvshe was wearing. She at least had a silk underwear on her chest, and he left her stomach bare, while the sheets covered the rest of the body.

He readied the wool and slowly pulled the arrow out. It came off swiftly, and he immediately dabbed at the wound, cutting off the flow of blood.

She was bleeding profusely now, and he grabbed his flask of alcohol. Prying it open with his teeth, then piled a healthy amount on the wound, then switched to clean wools.

The alcohol soon stopped the bleeding, and he cleaned the blood off, carefully seeing the wound. It was small, and judging by the height of blood on the arrowhead, it was not too deep.

He sighed, then cleaned the wound again. He then sent for a needle and thread. It would hurt, but it was her fault for thinking he would let her die just like that.

Once they brought the needle, however, he held it in his hand, unable to use it on her. His eyes darted to her closed ones and then to her fair skin that was now penetrated.

She probably did not need the stitches. He took the ointment instead. It was made with honey and a lot of other herbs to stop infection. Gently, he applied it, his eyes darting between his hands and her eyes.

She was still unconscious, and he finished applying the ointment. He let it rest for a while. The room was now cast in the moonlight streaming in through the window, and he gently brought another set of wools. He bathed them in honey and carefully plastered them on the wound.

He then stood up and grabbed the bandage. Gently, he propped her up, careful to keep the ointment and honey coated wools in place.

He then made her sit up and rest on his shoulders, and he wrapped the bandage around her stomach. Once the wool was secure, he gently tied the bandage, then carefully started to move her back.

"Ev..."

His eyes squinted as he turned to her.

"Evander?"

He turned and said nothing, then helped her back in bed. There was nothing more he would do for her, and he grabbed his coat. With one more glance at her, he walked away, closing the door behind him.