[CW: death, grief]

The Queen's bedchambers were dark, the curtains drawn, and only a few flickering candles by her bedside. The air was metallic, mixed with the sweet scent of laudanum flavored with honey and cinnamon. Jourdon's hand, which had never left mine, clenched as he paused in the doorway, staring at his mother.

I followed his gaze, and my stomach lurched. It felt like only a few days ago she had sat smiling as I had met her, but now she looked so small. Her skin clung to her bones, outlining the skeletal structure of her face. Her eyelids sagged and her breathing rattled in her chest, thick and liquid. A smear of blood lingered next to her lips.

Jourdon bolted to her. Tears dripping from his eyes as his voice lost all of his composure. "Mother," he whispered. "I'm here now. Please, stay with me."

He took her hand in his, but it was limp. His jaw clenched as he stared at it, using both of his hands to clasp it with his, rubbing them over hers like somehow if he transferred his heat to her she would warm back up.

I took in a deep ragged breath, a numbness leaking up from my toes, making my legs leaden. Everything in the moment was too much.

"She's worse than even this morning," he whispered to me, he tilted his head back so his eyes could meet mine. "When I came in she was trying to get out of bed, saying she had to get ready for lunch and the nurses had to hold her down to keep her off her feet." He let out a harsh exhale.

"She commanded they let her go because she had to be ready for the princess. I believe she intended to invite you. She has always looked forward to meeting you." He closed his eyes, a sob rattling in his chest. "I thought she might be getting better..."

That did it. A sob broke from me and I pressed a hand over my mouth.

I stared at the queen, remembering her warm smile. She was a stranger, I didn't know why it struck me then. Like I was losing something I'd never had the chance to have.

 If things weren't were they were, would Queen Caressa have been like a mother to me? If Jourdon wasn't so terrible, if things had gone as I had hoped.

 I imagined her, at a different time. Upright and full of life, sitting across from me as we had tea and ate sweets and sandwiches full of jam. She could have been the mother I'd never truly had.

My gaze slipped to Jourdon. He was crying, holding his mother's hand to his lips. Did Caressa know of her son's doings? Of who he really was? I doubted it. I didn't know her, but there was something to here, a purity of her soul. One that even an Angel would not harm.

Yet still, here she was, soon to be taken by the Angel of Death herself. I was no fool. I had never seen someone die before, but Queen Caressa was not long in this world.

Jourdon, seeing my tears, turned to me, embracing me before I had a chance to realize what he was doing. He held me tightly, burrowing his wet face into my neck, clinging to me as he shuddered with his grief. I slowly wrapped my arms around his back. Pain lanced my heart, I stared blankly over his shoulder as the queen's breaths grew more and more shallow.

After he stopped trembling Jourdon pulled away, setting his jaw. He looked up at the nurses hovering nearby. "Has Father come to see her yet?"

The nurse shifted uncomfortably, then shook her head. "Sorry, Your Royal Highness, but he has not been by her chambers for some time, not even when she was well."

Jourdon's gaze was steely, flickering a hard amber in the candlelight. "He was informed I assume?"

The nurse nodded, lips pursed in a way that suggested her own disgust. "Yes, he was."

Jourdon nodded stiffly, turning back to his mother. The queen's chambermaid came with a second chair, and Jourdon indicated for me to sit, his gaze never leaving the Queen's face.

"If you do not wish to say with me, I will understand. But if you would, I would appreciate it. I might... need you."

His words struck something inside of me, and I considered him, confusion swelling through me. I did not think Jourdon's grief was false. The tears running down his face were real.

He hated me, this much I knew. Yet, at such a time he still wished for me to be by his side?

Something didn't add up. He could have sent me from the room, asked me to leave him alone, and no one would have been suspicious. But he wasn't doing that. He wanted me there.

I could not see the malicious intent in the action, no matter where I looked. Perhaps his sadness was so great, right now having anyone there with him would do. Even a demon worshipping Rose Witch, as the Aurelians would have called me.

With that thought in mind, I slowly nodded, turning my attention to the queen. I would stay there with him, play the role of his comforting betrothed.

But I would not do it for him, but for Queen Caressa.

I sat down in the provided chair. Jourdon held his mother's hand in one and gripped mine with his other. We sat silently, staying with the queen in her final moments.

The nurses kept her on a steady dose of laudanum, numbing her pain. The harsh coughs rattling in the queen's chest eventually subsided.

And she took her last, shallow, breath.

We both stared at her, wondering if it was truly her last. Silence hung heavy in the room, all the collected nurses and servants watching anxiously. It felt like hours passed as we waited.

Another breath never came.

"She's gone," Jourdon said softly, too softly. His voice hitched, and he leaned forward pressing a kiss to his mother's hand.

I cried, for her, for who she could have been for me. For the strangers we were, for her suffering. My one solace is that she died unaware of who her son really was. Without seeing the darkness that lurked in him, even now.

She was free to join the Angels, and I knew they would welcome her with open arms.

The room, warmed by the love of the people surrounding the queen, now felt emptier—colder.

Jourdon turned to embrace me again, his hands digging into my back as he poured his grief into my bosom. I ran my hands over him, stroking his hair, my own tears falling down my cheeks to mingle with his. Right then he was broken, and I was unable to find the strength in me to hate him.

Eventually, he drew away, his head hung as he wiped at his cheeks. A nurse came forward, trembling as she drew the Queen's sheet up over her head, a few drops of blood staining the crisp white linen over her lips. Jourdon stood, staring at it numbly, taking my hand as he helped me to my feet. He held it tightly.

The nurse nodded, her own eyes rimmed with red. "We will see to her, Your Royal Highness. I think it is best that you go get some rest. I know she was happy to have you here with her." Her eyes slipped to me, soft. "Along with your lovely wife."

Jourdon's hand tightened in mine. He had removed his glasses, his eyes swollen from crying, lips still trembling. He let out a slow breath. "Please take good care of her, Lina."

This elicited a fresh sob from the nurse. "I will do my best, Your Royal Highness."

Jourdon pulled me with him as we stepped from the room. The corridor outside was dark and frigid. I shivered. Jourdon did not release me as we walked.

Behind my eyes played the scene of the queen's final breaths, each time the fresh agony of it hitting me again in the chest. It was not until we were halfway to our chambers, that I realized Jourdon was gazing at me.

"Thank you," he said. "I know seeing such a thing was not easy for you, but I could not have faced that alone. I appreciate you showing me such kindness even when you still do not know me."

His words, though soft with raw emotion, reminded me swiftly of his treachery, and the extent I truly did not know him. It all rushed back to me and I averted my gaze, focusing on the darkness ahead.

"I wanted to be there for the Queen," I replied stiffly

"As I can tell." Jourdon's thumb rubbed the side of my hand, which was still entwined in his. "You are like her, you know. I can see it. So kindhearted."

I tore my hand from his, unable to bear his lies. They sat like hot coals around my heart, burning their way through it. The worse of it was I wanted so desperately for this man, this version of Jourdon that he presented to me, to be true. But I had to remember that this was not who he was.

He led a faction of Aurelians within this very city, and he wanted me dead. He had no intention of ever marrying me. He was playing me for a fool.

"I'm sorry," I stammered, unable to help a fresh wave of grievous tears. This time they were not only for the Queen but that small hope I had clung to ever since the news of my betrothal-- that I might find happiness with my husband. It, like the bright light of the queen, was now gone to a place I knew it could never return from.

"I-I need to be alone now, I think."

Jourdon gazed at me, his jaw clenching. But he nodded, not reaching back out to me.

"I understand, but at least let me see you safely to your rooms."

I almost laughed from the sick humour of it all. He was claiming to be concerned for my safety when he was the one I needed to fear above all.

I nodded wordlessly, keeping the burning hurt inside my heart. We walked up the stairs and tears blurred the hallway. When we reached my room, Jourdon turned to me.

"Ophelia—"

He reached out to me like he might embrace me again, but I stepped out of his reach, keeping my eyes away from him.

"Good night, Jourdon," I said harshly, stepping in to my chambers without looking back at him once.

I was alone for some time in my room, I wasn't sure how much time passed. I just knew the darkness had grown thicker and I had yet to light the candles. Eventually, I looked up to see Sabine standing before me, the darkness of the room grasping at her like she had just materialized from the shadows.

"I heard about the queen, I am sorr—"

"Leave," I commanded, my voice level and harsh. She was just another deceiver, another liar. If she had not gone to that meeting, my doubts would never have been confirmed. I would have been able to embrace Jourdon, maybe even love him. Believe the lie. A sweet, blissful ignorance.

That would have been shattered once he pressed a knife to my throat.

 "Unless you can get me out of this forsaken place right now, leave."

My anger materialized itself, hot and unbidden, directed completely at her. The angels whispered, but for once I welcomed it, for the sounds reflected the chaos in my heart.

She must have seen it. She stepped back, inclining her head as she obeyed my command.

"Very well, Your Highness. Call me if you need me."