Six Weeks Before Her Birthday
The sun was dipping low on the horizon, painting the palace courtyard in shades of amber and gold.
Queen Angelina—Nana—stood at the main gates for the third time that day, her elaborate robes billowing in the evening breeze, her expression caught between worry and frustration.
Xavier had left before dawn without telling her where he was going. Again.
The servants had whispered about urgent business, about traitors in the outer provinces, about the King needing to handle matters personally. But they wouldn't tell her specifics, wouldn't explain why her husband kept disappearing for these mysterious trips that left her pacing the palace halls and checking the gates every hour.
She was his wife. His queen. Didn't she have a right to know where he went? To know if he was safe?
"Your Majesty,"
one of her handmaidens said gently.
"Perhaps you should come inside. The King may not return until—"
The sound of hoofbeats interrupted her.
Nana's heart leaped as the gates swung open and Xavier's black destrier thundered through, his silver hair catching the dying light, his dark robes dusty from travel.
She didn't think.
Didn't care about propriety or dignity or the dozen guards and servants watching.
She just ran.
"NANA—"
Xavier barely had time to dismount before she crashed into him, nearly toppling them both. His arms came around her automatically, steadying them.
"Careful, you'll hurt yourself—"
"Where were you?!"
Nana pulled back just enough to glare up at him, her hands fisted in his robes.
"You left before I woke up! You didn't tell me where you were going! You didn't say goodbye! I've been worried sick all day wondering if you were—"
Her tirade cut off as she noticed something dark smeared on his cheek.
"What is that? Is that blood?!"
Her anger evaporated instantly, replaced by panic. Her hands came up to cup his face, turning it this way and that, searching for injuries.
"Are you hurt? Where are you hurt? Someone get the physician! NOW!"
"Nana."
Xavier caught her hands gently, his expression softening at her obvious distress. "I'm fine. I'm not hurt."
"But the blood—"
"It's not mine."
"Then whose—" Nana stopped, understanding dawning. The traitors. He'd been dealing with traitors. Which meant fighting. Which meant danger.
Which meant her husband had been in a situation where people were bleeding and she hadn't even known about it.
"You could have been killed,"
she whispered, and her voice cracked slightly. "You could have died and I wouldn't have even known where you were."
Something flickered across Xavier's expression—pain, guilt, and something that looked almost like self-loathing. He glanced around at the gathered crowd of servants and guards all pretending not to watch their queen having a very public emotional moment.
"Let's discuss this inside,"
he said quietly.Before Nana could respond, Xavier scooped her up into his arms—one arm under her knees, the other supporting her back—and started walking toward the palace. Nana squeaked in surprise, automatically wrapping her arms around his neck.
"Xavier! Put me down! People are watching!"
"Let them watch. You're my wife. I'm allowed to carry you."
"But—"
"Shh." His voice was gentle but firm.
"I need to talk to you privately. And you're clearly not going to let this go until we do."
Nana huffed but settled against his chest, very aware of how many eyes were on them as Xavier carried her through the palace corridors like she weighed nothing. Servants bowed and scurried out of the way. Guards saluted. Nobles whispered behind their fans.
The King of the North, feared and ruthless, carrying his queen like precious cargo.
because she'd been worried about him.
If Nana wasn't so upset, she might have found it romantic.
Xavier kicked open the door to their private chambers—the rooms they shared as husband and wife—and set her down carefully on the edge of their bed.
Then he closed and locked the door, ensuring complete privacy.
Nana immediately climbed onto his lap the moment he sat beside her.
Xavier's eyes widened. "Nana—"
"You're my husband," she said firmly, settling herself across his thighs and wrapping her arms around his neck.
"I have every right to be close to you. Especially when you've scared me half to death."
Xavier's hands came to rest on her waist automatically, holding her steady. His expression was a complicated mix of fondness, surprise, and something deeper—something that looked like barely restrained emotion.
"I didn't mean to scare you," he said quietly.
"Then why didn't you tell me where you were going? Why do you keep leaving without explanation?"
"Because—" Xavier paused, seeming to struggle with words.
"Because I'm trying to protect you. There are threats to the kingdom, Nana. Threats I need to handle personally. The less you know about some of these things, the safer you are."
"That's ridiculous! I'm the queen! I should know about threats to our kingdom!"
"Not these threats."
Xavier's hands tightened slightly on her waist.
"These are... complicated. Dangerous. And I will not risk you being caught up in them"
Nana studied his face—the tension in his jaw, the shadows under his eyes, the way he looked at her like he was memorizing every detail. Something was wrong. Had been wrong for weeks now. He'd been distant, distracted, spending hours in his study researching things he wouldn't explain.
And now this—disappearing to handle threats alone, coming back with blood on his face.
"Xavier,"
Nana said softly, her anger draining away.
"What's going on? Really? You can tell me. I'm your wife. Your partner. Whatever burden you're carrying, let me help you carry it."
For a moment, Xavier looked like he might actually tell her. His eyes—those pale blue eyes that sometimes seemed to hold centuries of pain—met hers with such raw vulnerability that it stole her breath.
"I can't lose you,"
he whispered, and his voice cracked slightly. "That's what's going on. I cannot lose you, Nana. Not again. Not—"
He stopped himself, like he'd said too much.
"Again?"
Nana's brow furrowed.
"Xavier, you're not making sense. How could you lose me again? We've only been married two years."
"I—" Xavier's throat worked. "I meant I can't lose you at all. The thought of something happening to you, of not being able to protect you—"
His hands came up to cup her face.
"That's why I handle these threats personally. Why I go alone. Because if something went wrong, if you were with me and got hurt—"
He couldn't finish. Couldn't voice the nightmare that played in his head constantly—her dying, her life ending at exactly twenty-two years and three hundred sixty-four days old, just like the curse promised.
"I need you to be safe,"
Xavier continued, his thumbs brushing her cheekbones.
"I need to know you're here, in the palace, protected. Even if it means you worry. Even if it means you're angry with me. Your safety is worth any amount of your frustration."
Nana's expression softened. She leaned into his touch, her hands moving to rest over his where they cupped her face.
"I understand wanting to protect me,"
she said gently. "But Xavier, you're important too. You matter. If something happened to you—"
Her voice wavered.
"I don't know what I'd do. You've become... you're everything to me. Do you understand? You're my husband, yes, but you're also my best friend. The person I want to tell everything to. The first person I think of when I wake up and the last before I sleep."
Xavier's eyes were suspiciously bright.
"Nana—"
"So please," she continued, her own voice getting emotional.
"Please stop trying to carry everything alone. Let me help. Let me be your partner in all things, not just the easy parts. And for heaven's sake—"
She tried for a smile. "At least tell me goodbye before you disappear. Tell me you'll come back. Give me something to hold onto while you're gone."
A single tear escaped Xavier's control, tracking down his cheek.
Nana's eyes widened. She'd never seen him cry before. Never seen any crack in his composed exterior beyond the occasional flash of vulnerability when he thought she wasn't looking.
"Xavier?" She wiped the tear away gently. "What's wrong? Please, talk to me."
"The blood,"
Xavier said, his voice rough.
"On my face. You asked if it was mine."
"And you said it wasn't."
"It's not. My blood has a different scent." He took her hand, the one that had wiped his tear, and pressed it against his chest where his heart beat steady and strong.
"Can you smell the difference?"
Nana leaned closer, bringing her face near his cheek where the blood had smeared. She breathed in carefully, and Xavier was right—the blood smelled wrong. Metallic and sharp, different from the warm, slightly sweet scent that always clung to Xavier's skin.
"See?" Xavier's voice was barely a whisper.
"I never lie to you, my queen. That blood belongs to someone who tried to hurt what's mine. Someone who threatened this kingdom. Threatened you."
"You killed them."
"Yes."
Nana should have been horrified. Should have recoiled from this admission that her husband had taken a life today.
But instead, she felt only a fierce satisfaction that he'd eliminated a threat to their home. To their people.
To them.
"Good,"
she said firmly, and Xavier's eyes widened in surprise.
"I'm glad. Anyone who threatens you, threatens us, deserves whatever they got."
Then Nana did something that surprised them both—she wrapped her arms fully around his neck and pulled herself closer, tucking her face against his shoulder in a proper embrace.
"Thank you,"
she whispered against his neck.
"For protecting me. For protecting the kingdom. For always coming back."
Xavier's arms came around her waist, holding her tightly. Too tightly, perhaps, like he was afraid she'd disappear if he let go. His face buried in her hair, and Nana felt wetness—more tears, silent and desperate.
He was crying. Really crying. Her strong, composed, fearless husband was falling apart in her arms.
"Xavier," Nana murmured, stroking his hair gently.
"It's okay. Whatever it is, it's okay. I'm here. I'm safe. We're together."
"For now,"
Xavier choked out. "We're together for now."
"For always," Nana corrected.
"We're married, remember? Till death do us part? That means you're stuck with me, Your Majesty."
Xavier's laugh was broken and watery.
"Till death do us part,"
he repeated, and the words sounded like both a promise and a curse.They stayed like that for a long moment, holding each other as the sun set completely outside their window. Finally, Xavier pulled back just enough to look at her face.
"Nana," he said softly. "Can I kiss you?"
They'd kissed before, of course. Chaste kisses after ceremonies, gentle goodnight kisses, sweet greetings when one of them returned from trips. But the way Xavier asked now—with such vulnerability, such desperate need—made it sound like more.
Like everything.
"Always,"
Nana answered, and Xavier's expression cracked with relief.
He kissed her like a drowning man finding air. His hands came up to cradle her face, his lips capturing hers with a desperation that stole her breath.
This wasn't the careful, controlled kisses they'd shared before. This was raw and honest and full of everything he couldn't say.
I love you. I've loved you for over 200years. I'm terrified of losing you. Please don't leave me again.
Nana responded with equal fervor, her fingers threading through his hair, her body pressing closer to his. She could taste salt on his lips—his tears, falling even as he kissed her, even as he poured every ounce of his love into this moment.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Nana gently wiped the tears from Xavier's cheeks.
"You're crying," she said softly. "Why?"
"Because you're here,"
Xavier answered honestly.
"Because you're alive and warm and real in my arms. Because for this moment, you're mine and nothing can take you from me."
"I am yours," Nana confirmed.
"And you're mine. For as long as we both shall live."
Six weeks, Xavier thought desperately. I have six weeks left with you. Six weeks before the curse comes. Six weeks to love you as completely as I can.
"Nana," he said, his voice dropping lower. "Tonight. I want—I need—"
He struggled to find words. "We've been married two years, but I've been holding back. Giving you space. Letting you adjust. But I don't want to hold back anymore. I want to love you properly. Completely. As a husband loves his wife."
Nana's cheeks flushed pink, but her eyes were steady and certain.
"I want that too. I've wanted it for months, but I thought... I thought maybe you didn't desire me that way. That our marriage was more political partnership than—"
"No." Xavier's hands tightened on her waist. "God, no. Nana, I desire you more than I desire breath. I have been holding back out of respect, out of fear that I was pushing too fast, but every night I sleep beside you is torture. Every innocent touch is agony. You have no idea how much I want you."
"Then show me," Nana whispered.
"Show me, Xavier. Love me. Please."
Xavier kissed her again, deeper this time, his hands beginning to work at the elaborate fastenings of her robes. Nana helped, her own fingers trembling slightly as she loosened his outer robes, pushing them off his shoulders.
"Are you certain?"
Xavier asked one more time, even as his hands traced patterns on her skin.
"We can wait if you're not—"
"I'm certain." Nana cupped his face, made him look at her.
"I love you, Xavier. I've loved you for months now, even though I was afraid to say it. But I'm not afraid anymore. I love you, and I want this. Want you. Want everything with you."
She loves me. Xavier's heart clenched painfully. She loves me and in six weeks she'll be dead and she doesn't even know.
He kissed her again to hide the fresh tears threatening to fall, then carefully, reverently, he lowered her onto their bed.
"I love you too,"
he whispered against her lips.
"More than you could possibly understand. In ways I can never fully explain. Nana—my Starlight—you are everything."
That night, Xavier loved his wife properly for the first time. He worshiped every inch of her skin, memorized every sound she made, traced the star-shaped birthmark on her palm with his lips like it was sacred. He was gentle and patient and desperate all at once, trying to pour a lifetime—three lifetimes—of love into one night.
Nana responded with equal passion, her hands exploring his body, her voice whispering his name like a prayer. She gave herself to him completely, holding nothing back, trusting him with everything she was.
When they finally joined together, Xavier had to pause, had to breathe through the overwhelming emotion threatening to destroy him. Because this was different from every other lifetime. This time she was his wife. This time she'd chosen him freely. This time she'd said she loved him while fully conscious and aware and alive.
"Xavier?"
Nana's hand cupped his cheek, concerned. "Are you alright?"
"I'm perfect,"
he managed, even as tears fell onto her face. "You're perfect. This is perfect. I just—I love you so much it hurts."
"Then show me," Nana whispered, pulling him closer. "Show me how much. Love me until neither of us can breathe. Love me until we forget where you end and I begin."
So Xavier did. He loved her slowly, thoroughly, desperately. He made her his in every way possible, and let her make him hers in return. He whispered promises in her ear—promises to protect her, cherish her, love her until his last breath.
Promises he knew would break his heart in six weeks.
But tonight—tonight they were husband and wife in the truest sense. Tonight she was alive and warm and his.
Tonight he could pretend that love was enough to break curses, that choosing her could finally change their fate.
Later, as Nana slept peacefully in his arms, Xavier allowed himself to cry properly. Silent tears falling into her hair as he held her close, his hand pressed over her heart to feel its steady beat.
Please, he prayed to whatever gods might listen. Please let me keep her this time. Please let this lifetime be different. I'll give anything. Everything. Just let her live past twenty-three.
The stars outside their window remained cold and silent.
The curse cared nothing for love or prayers or desperate wishes.In six weeks, it would come to collect its due.
But tonight, Xavier held his beloved wife and pretended that love could be enough.
That choosing her could finally, finally save her.
Even though he knew better.
Even though he'd lived this nightmare twice before.
Even though his heart would shatter again in exactly forty-two days.
Tonight, his Starlight slept peacefully in his arms.
And Xavier let himself believe in impossible things.
Just for one more night.
.
.
.
.
.
⭐⭐⭐
To be continued __