[Note: Itâs been way too long since I posted anything (inspiration wasnât flowing for me at all). I know this doesnât really fit in with The Royal Heirâs timeline very well but I always imagined Freyaâs pregnancy to be a surprise rather than something that was planned (Iâm also not a huge fan of the demanded pregnant angle in general. Plus angst is just too much fun to write⌠which sounds kinda sinister when I put it out there like that...) Anyways! I hope you enjoy it! TRH continues to be my writing muse at the moment so expect more of these two from me.]
[Summary: Freya, newly crowned queen with some unexpected news weighing down on her shoulders, struggles with the reality of their situation as her and Liam begin their honeymoon. Set in the first chapter of The Royal Heir.]
[Tag List: @lodberg, @cora-nova, @romanticatheart-posts]
It was a strange feeling, sitting across from Liam, eating our meal together in a comfortable silence with the sound of waves and the scent of salt, life, and wet sand surrounding us like everything was right in the world. So strange that I had no idea how to act, let alone what to say. You know your life defies normality when you arenât sure how to act like an ordinary human being anymore.
What should I do with my eyes? Do I look at him while we eat or would that be weird? Do I look behind him or does that make it seem like Iâm not paying enough attention? Maybe I should just look at the food? I think Iâll just look at the foodâŚ
It was the first evening of our honeymoon and I found myself more keyed up now than I did before our wedding. Shyly glancing down whenever our eyes would meet and exchanging uncertain, careful touches reserved for people who were still in stage one of their relationships. It was ridiculous, yet every time I looked at Liam I couldnât hold back the wave of guilt that threatened to drown me. Because he still didnât know.
It had been almost two weeks since Iâd taken the test in that grungy, outdated bathroom with shaking fingers, one week since the attack at our wedding which threatened to take everything away from me, and eleven restless nights of seeing those two hair-raising pink lines every time I closed my eyes. And still I hadnât told Liam that I was pregnant.
Iâd exhausted every excuse imaginable for my reasoning's. The timing wasnât right with the wedding coming up. Anton needed to be our main priority, not what was cooking in my stomach. Bertrand would go into mother hen mode which was exhausting to just think about. I didnât want to stress Liam out more than he already was. Though the reality was much simpler; I was still floating blissfully in my own pool of denial and telling Liam would make it real, which was something that I wasnât even close to being ready for. Call me selfish.
I studied him as he stared off into the horizon, the last of the dayâs rays highlighting his cheeks and bronzing his hair before he turned to give me his private smile. The one that was so relaxed and so content that it made my ears burn like I was a bashful schoolgirl. The one that was reserved for me alone. I looked away.
What the hell was wrong with me?
âHey.â The concern laced in his voice had me glancing up from my nearly full plate. âEverything alright?â
Taking a deep breath, I shook my head. âI still canât believe that weâre actually here,â I dodged as I artistically rearranged the food with my fork for the hundredth time. âIt doesnât feel real.â It wasnât a lie, not really.
âI know what you mean. I half expect the kingdom to be in chaos when we get back.â
âTheir king is away on a remote island for a whole week, chaos is inevitable,â I teased.
âAnd their queen,â he corrected.
I blinked slowly as my mind came to a screeching halt at that reality. Oh, right. âItâll never not be weird hearing that, will it?â
âYou were always going to be my queen, Freya. From the moment you decided I was worth it.â He said it so nonchalantly, like he was making a simple comment about the weather, that I had to hide my smirk behind my hand. A silly grin lit up his face. âWhat?â
âYou donât even have to try, do you? Youâre like a walking hallmark card.â
âIâm not sure what that means but it sounded like an insult,â Liam said while amusement made his eyes crinkle in the corners enduringly.
âOf the highest regard,â I shot back.
Time passed in a blur. We ate, laughed, and chatted about nothing in particular while the sun set behind us before seeing the staff off for the night, leaving us and the island to ourselves. Stars dotted the night sky as Liam and I walked the beach, my arm swinging his loosely with the rough grains of sand sticking to our bare feet. It felt so easy being here with him, just the two of us. I couldnât remember the last time we were truly alone. I frowned. Have we ever been alone like this before?
His long fingers played with mine as we wandered. Brushing against the palm, tracing abstract patterns against its skin, tightly interlacing with my own. I loved Liamâs hands. Contrary to popular belief, they were hardened due to calluses with little perfect imperfections spotting his knuckles and thumbs. He had the hands of a man that worked hard which had come as a shock to me at first. You would think that a prince wouldnât need to lift a finger for anything. Yet after getting to know him I decided it was perfectly in character for him, to be involved in the labor instead of watching from the sidelines. It was one of those characteristics that made Liam, Liam.
He was going to be a great dad.
The spontaneous thought had me stopping dead in my tracks with eyes the size of chargers. I tugged at his hand until he was standing at my side.
âWhat is it?â he asked.
âEverythingâs going to change now.â It wasnât a question.
He studied me for a moment before answering with a simple yet meaningful, âYes.â
âWhat if Iâm not ready? What if I ruin everything?â
It was meant to be comforting though instead it had anxiety creeping up my throat in the form of tiny little spiders. I broke away from him and squeezed the heel of my hand against my forehead so forcefully that I was sure it would leave a bruise. Maybe if I squeezed hard enough my problems would go away. âYou canât know that.â
I could feel when he stepped forward. He didnât say anything, didnât move to touch me, though he didnât need to for me to know that he was there. I was constantly so aware of him that it sometimes drove me slightly insane. The commanding presence that followed him like a second skin wherever he went, the sound of his sleekly virile voice, that distinctive scent; fresh linens, mint, and something sharp that I couldnât place. All attributes that I associated home with.
âFrey, I love you, but I also love my country.â Liam slid his palms down my shoulders to turn me around to face him. âIf I didnât think you could handle it we wouldnât be standing here right now.â
âNo, instead it would be Madeleine youâd be whispering sweet nothings to,â I murmured and his lips took a turn south. I sighed and pinched my eyes shut. What was I doing? This was supposed to be our honeymoon. It wasnât his fault that I had the communication skills of a potato.
Drawing him closer, I circled my arms around his neck so our chests pressed together. My fingers twisted in the short hairs on his nape. âIâm sorry, itâs just a lot to take in at once.â
âDonât apologize,â he told me. âJust tell me how I can help.â
You canât help, not with this. Not right now. But I wasnât going to tell him that, so instead I settled for something that I knew would defuse the attention from the topic. âWell⌠a kiss wouldnât be unwelcomed.â
Liam smirked. âAs you wish, my queen.â He leaned forward to bridge the space between our lips, his breath mingling deliciously with my own as he grew closer, and closer, and closerâŚ
And just as his lips brushed mine, the anticipation so rich and solid that I could practically taste it, I pulled back smugly to meet his gaze. âThat is if you can catch me first,â I said against his mouth before sprinting away with a giggle. He let out a shaky laugh before following me beyond the sands of the shore and into the cool, black water ahead.
snowghoul
turnnoffyourmind
romaincrisis
