Page 13 of Of Realms and Chaos

After our bath, he had gotten us dressed in a matching set of clothes. His blue tunic had silver accents, the long sleeves rolled up his arms to show the tattoos below. On his bottom half he wore black trousers, simple in comparison to the intricate detailing of his top.

He had offered me a stunning dress in the same blue. It was loose and flowy, the silver ropes on my shoulders that acted as straps making me blush in memory of our library excursions. It parted, the material splitting so high up my thighs that it was not far from where the fabric sat low on my back. After he had slipped the dress up my body, Bellamy had gotten on his knees to slowly tie the silver sandals up my legs, the straps ending just above my calves.

Being tended to by him felt even more intimate than kissing him sometimes.

The final touch was a silver sheath, which he strapped to my thigh with tantalizingly soft caresses that turned to swipes of his tongue and lips that left me gripping his hair and screaming his name.

Once I was fully dressed, he had braided my curls and even added kohl to my eyes after I complimented his. He was always quick to take care of me, to show me his love through actions just as often as he did through words.

I would not mind a tiny him one day, perhaps a couple hundred years from now. But how could I explain to Bellamy that I might never be able to give him that, even if we did find our way back to one another?

With an audible gulp, my eyes locked on one of the many demons that stood at attention. He followed my gaze, staring down each guard before waving his hand at them.

“Leave us, please.”

They shuffled out quickly, not hesitating to follow the command of their prince. Bellamy merely watched me, his eyes narrowed as if he were trying to determine what I had been meaning to say without needing to ask me again.

“I cannot conceive,” I blurted out after the guards were all gone.

It hurt to say aloud, to admit such a thing. Fae younglings were a rarity, and they were deeply loved. Bellamy had told Revanche yesterday that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. Would that still be true if he found out that I was likely never going to give him younglings?

After I leave him to take my kingdom, he might not want me anyways. I supposed it did not matter if this bothered him when I would do far worse.

“Xavier and Mia had been angry following Sipho’s death. At me, at him, at themselves. They called me reckless and said they could not risk me conceiving a youngling due to my stupidity. After a night in my low level room—”

Bellamy cut me off with a growl, his anger thick and heavy in the room. Tension crawled up my spine, leaving me unsure of how to proceed. I swiped a mint leaf off the small silver dish just past my plate, popping it into my mouth and anxiously chewing it. Neither of us enjoyed talking about the royals, though we somehow always managed to bring them into conversations.

“I awoke to find Mia there. She was stroking my hair and humming to me. It was the first kind thing she had done for me since Sipho’s death, and it made me feel as if things might get better with time. Xavier had said it was my fault, and I believed him. My anger felt misplaced—wrong, even. Though I did not forgive them, I also was unwilling to show that when it seemed wrong to feel such a thing.”

I sighed, readying to tell him something that would change the way he viewed me. The way he pictured his future.

“It was then she explained that she had found a way for Tish to make me infertile, just until I was wed and needed to produce an heir. None of them clarified how it worked, and I never asked, which means I cannot bear children. So no accidents will occur. It is impossible,” I finished, exhaling a deep and painful breath.

Younglings were not something I wanted right now, or anytime soon, but I had always pictured being a mother one day. I was unsure what Bellamy wanted for his future other than he wanted to be more than a husband or a father or a soldier. That he wanted to be someone rather than just anyone. And I understood that, down to my core. Did that mean though that he did not ever want those things? Or did he simply mean he wanted to accomplish more in his life than only those things?

“Ash, I am sorry that happened to you. That you were violated in such a way.”

Broken, his voice sounded so broken, but I shook my head, trying to stop the tears and explain why this was probably for the best.

“Honestly, it is okay. I do not want younglings in the near future, and I am not sure if someone like me should conceive anyways. Wanting to be a mother and deserving to be one are two vastly different things.”

Bellamy shot out of his chair, causing it to scratch across the wood floors and topple backwards. He did not seem to care as he made his way to me, rage causing his pupils to grow and overtake the stunning blue that I so loved.

My eyes went wide, mind reeling and unsure what to do as he stormed over to me. Was he that mad at me?

Bellamy pulled my chair out from under the table, twisting me around and then placing his hands on either arm rest. He leaned in, the smell of him intoxicating enough to mask the fear I felt for a moment.

“Do not ever act as if you are undeserving of what you want in life. Do not ever say that the things they did to you, what they stole from you, was okay. That the loss and pain and tragedies you suffered are not a big deal. That it is all fine. None of that is fine.”

No, it was not. I did agree. But what I would not say to him, or anyone, was that I still remembered the happy times. The moments when Mia would braid my hair as I played the pianoforte or when she would wake me up in the night to go lay in the gardens and look at the stars. Or the ones when Xavier would sneak me cookies beneath the dinner table and play pranks on the guards with me. That I missed those small pockets of joy more than anything. Some days, the pain had felt worth it, because their love had felt endless.

Hating them would make everything easier, but life was not easy.

“Are you mad at me?” I asked, my voice small and quiet—nervous for his answer.

Bellamy flashed me a stunned face, as if he could not believe I would ask such a thing. That was because he had a father who loved him, who stood up for him and cared for him. He did not understand the pain that came with my situation.

To be isolated and alone save for the couple who raised you. To suffer at their hands and be supposedly loved by them within the same breath. To then learn that every bit of that was fake, that you were a pawn and a fool and everything that you fought so hard not to be. I knew now that every move they had made was calculated and false, which perhaps made it all worse, because now I feared that no love came without pain.

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