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crypt-tids · 4 months ago

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A Gift Unto the King

In Health

Aoife’s thumb lightly ran over Carmilla’s knuckles, her hand limp in the maid’s grasp. The scent of fresh cut flowers filled the room with an earthy sweetness. Fiery orange light burned through the window of the queen’s chambers, as the sun slowly descended into the mountains.

“Has she stirred?” Vin quietly asked from the door, carrying a fresh bowl of clean water.

“No, your highness.” Aoife sighed defeatedly.

Vin set the bowl down on the nightstand, his eyes falling to Carmilla’s face. Her cheeks were still fairly sunken, but their color had started to return. Dewy sweat stippled her brow, and he reached into the bowl to fetch the soaked linen, wringing it out, and gently dabbing her forehead with it.

“She will.” He spoke calmly, more as an assurance to himself than to her.

“It’s been days.” Aoife’s brows creased. “What if… she never wakes up?” Her voice was broken and small.

Vin felt his jaw clench.

“I just…” Her voice cracked, “I just need her to be alright.” Tears threatened her waterline, and she quickly wiped them away, not giving them a chance to break free.

“I know.” Vin replied, returning the linen to the water bowl, before drying his hands on his blouse. “She just needs time to recover. Everything will be fine.” His voice was as reassuring as he could make it, despite his own concerns threatening its facade.

Aoife’s grip tightened firmly around Carmilla’s hand, silent prayers circling her mind as she stared at her sleeping face. Carmilla’s ringlets haloed her head, delicately framing her lightly flushed cheeks. Dark circles tugged at her closed eyes, evidence of the weeks of illness and exhaustion she’d endured.

“I should’ve done more…” She whispered. “I should’ve trusted my instincts.”

“This isn’t your fault, Aoife.” Vin replied, his voice fading, “you’re the last person that should be taking the blame for this.” He pressed his lips thin, his eyes falling to Carmilla, guilt squeezing his chest, suffocating him.

“I was with her. I watched the illness take her and I did nothing. How am I supposed to forgive myself for that?” Aoife’s voice broke, her chin beginning to tremble.

Vin stood silently for a moment, his fingers brushing lightly against the bedding. Carmilla’s chest rose and fell with the deep rhythm of slumber, and if he allowed it, he could believe that he was just watching her sleep. But the hitch in Aoife’s breath refused to let him linger in that delusion.

“You’ll have to try.” He finally spoke, firming his tone. “What happened wasn’t your doing, please do not torture yourself with it.” Vin gave Aoife a gentle pat on the shoulder. “You should get some rest.”

“I’m fine, your highness.” Aoife replied.

“You’re no good to her in this state.” Vin pressed.

Aoife sighed, her body and mind far too exhausted to protest any further.

“Very well, your highness.” She reluctantly released her hold on Carmilla’s hand and pushed herself up from the chair. “Should you need me-”

“I know where to find you.” Vin forced a smile that he hoped would reassure the young maid.

Aoife’s lips fell into a thin frown, her brows creased with worry. Slowly, her eyes drifted over Carmilla, silently hoping she would stir, even slightly, but she didn’t and it left her heart heavy.

“I’ll let you know when she wakes up.” Vin added calmly.

Aoife nodded, before turning away from the slumbering queen, and exiting the room.

Vin waited for the door to clack shut, before settling himself into the plush cushion of the chair beside the bed. He himself hadn’t slept much over the last few days. Every time he closed his eyes, he was tormented with flashes of Carmilla, weak and frail—dying in an infirmary bed. And then those dreadful images would morph and change, twisting into visions of suffering, only it was no longer Carmilla afflicted with that pain, but Lucas.

His dreams of Lucas had once been so pleasant, so full of vibrance and life, but now, within the few moments of sleep he’d allowed himself to collect in the recent days, the sight of Lucas would wake him instantly, weary and afraid. His mind felt warped and broken, mangled with guilt. It took everything in him to hold himself together.

Cautiously, he reached out, taking Carmilla’s hand into his own, his thumb stroking it lightly.

“Oh, Carmilla, please forgive me.” Vin pulled her hand up, gently placing her fingers against his lips, bestowing a sorrowful kiss upon them.

“Mn-”

Vin’s eyes snapped up, Carmilla’s fingers twitching in his grasp. Her brows scrunched, and slowly, her eyes cracked open. Blinking away the sleep, she adjusted her gaze.

“V-Vin?” Her voice was hoarse and raspy.

“Hey.” Vin whispered through a small, relieved smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Not… great.” Carmilla replied with a small cough. “Everything hurts and I’m exhausted.” She pushed herself up, sliding back against the headboard, groaning as her body protested. “What happened?”

Vin paused, the pit in his stomach willing him not to speak. He’d spent days circling this scenario in his mind, foolishly believing that the more he ran it over, the easier it would be to deal with. But now, staring at the weakened elf before him, he realized that no amount of preparation was going to save him from how painful this conversation would be.

“Carmilla,” Vin’s tone sobered, “what’s the last thing you remember?”

“I… I don’t know. I was in the garden with Aoife.” She tried to piece her memories together. “We were talking and… I remember a sharp pain and then…” She trailed off, her memories stopping abruptly short. “Nothing.”

Vin stared into her pleading eyes, desperately wishing to spare her from the words that were about to spill from his mouth, but the longer he held his tongue, the thicker the air became.

“You…” He drew a heavy breath, “the baby was…” Vin sharply exhaled through his nose, the words he needed to speak catching in his throat. “I’m sorry…”

“The baby…” Carmilla glanced down, lightly placing her hand against her belly. The energy that had once softly radiated from within her had gone silent.

“I didn’t have a choice.” Vin continued, his voice dragging into the floor. “I’m so sorry.”

The flower. Carmilla recalled. “They… were killing me.” Her brows upturned, a severe crease taking residence above her nose. There was hardly a tremor in her voice, as if the conversation had been a simple and casual one.

Vin acknowledged her statement with a quick nod.

“I could never apologize enough for what I’ve done to you.” The vampire clenched his jaw, his upper lip twitching. “If I had known, I never-”

“Vin.” Carmilla interjected calmly.

The king’s eyes snapped to her’s, glistening with guilt.

“You didn’t know, so blaming yourself is pointless.” Her voice was soft and delicate. “No elf has ever tried to carry a curse-born before. There was no way of predicting this.” She reached over and gave Vin’s hand a gentle, but shaky, squeeze, as her lips upturned into a weak, half-hearted smile—the sight of which only made Vin’s heart sink deeper into his already aching chest.

The king drew a deep breath, dropping his gaze in an attempt to spare himself even an ounce of guilt.

“My blood wasn’t pure enough.” He finally replied, broken and cracked, the very words stinging like lemon in a fresh cut.

Carmilla’s hand caressed his cheek softly, guiding his eyes up towards her face. His expression was contorted with grief and sadness, and unbearable guilt, with the darkened circles under his eyes further exacerbating his pitiful state. And as she gazed into the misty eyes of the king, the fake smile that she had forced to his benefit disappeared.

“I know.” She quietly replied, but the pain in his eyes only deepened, and her heart wrenched. Carmilla understood all too well what insecurities were now wrapping themselves around the vampire’s mind. With gentle caution, she attempted to whisk them away. “Spiritual purity doesn’t define the worth of the man, I hope you know that.”

Vin shook his head, a low huff escaping him.

“How tainted must my blood be to nearly kill someone so much stronger than myself?” He raspily muttered, his voice bordering on a low growl.

“Perhaps… I am not as strong as others perceive me to be.” Carmilla countered lightly. “Or maybe, misfortunes cannot always be predicted when treading uncharted waters.”

Vin sat silently for a moment, his brows furrowing tensely as he tried to collect his thoughts—to make sense of them. But he came up dry and his jaw clenched, fingers curling into tight fists, his long nails digging into his palms. Frustration and sadness swirled around each other like some tormented dance, and Vin had no way of knowing which one was leading. With a sigh, his brows began to part, upturning still at their inner edge.

“How can you be so calm about this?” He asked with a twisted frown.

And at the end of that broken question, Carmilla realized that her chosen facade hadn’t had the effect that she had hoped it would, and she let the mask fall.

“Truthfully… I think this situation is far too complex to have any sort of emotional expectations. I’m calm because I need to be—because it is what will be expected of me.” She paused for a moment, her fingers picking at the wrinkles in the bedsheet. “Because that is what is best for everyone right now.”

Vin winced lightly, and Carmilla let out a small sigh.

“Elves are supposed to be strong. We’re supposed to be powerful, and composed, worthy of reverence.” The rasp in her throat cracked her words. “To show our pain is to show our weakness, and weakness will always be exploited.” Carmilla paused for a moment, her lips pressed thin as she fought the quivering of her chin. “It does hurt.” She continued, her voice small. “In every way you could possibly imagine, but…” her eyes fell, “I know that what happened was for the best.”

Vin’s eyes widened, the crease of his brows meeting the bridge of his nose sharply.

“How?” He forced out. “How was any of this for the best?”

“Because if this child had survived, they would have ended up just like me. Just like you.” Her eyes pierced into his, her gaze misted, but serious. “A pawn in an unwinnable game.” Her chin quivered once more before steadying itself. “The only reason I’m here is because my father, for the first time in his life, saw use in me, and I went along with it because that was what I was told to do. Because he made me believe there was some justice to be had from it, but when I got here, and spent time with you, and the people here, I realized what a fool I had been to believe such misguided delusions.” Her tone sharpened. “My only regret is that I couldn’t stand on my own before having a child to mourn.” Carmilla’s face scrunched, a fist tightly clenched around her heart, as the wall holding her emotions began to crack and crumble. “I’m relieved, and devastated, and glad, but distraught, and I can’t make sense one way or the other about how I need to feel about this. All I do know is that no matter what I feel, guilt will hang over it like a blackened cloud. Because, how dare I feel relieved to no longer be pregnant, and how dare I feel sorrow for a child that would be subjected to a lifetime of political abuse? But most of all,” her voice broke, “how dare I allow any of this to happen in the first place?”

Vin watched the weakened woman’s body begin to tremble, her fists curling around the bed sheets, clutching them tightly. He could hardly think of a word to say. There wasn’t anything he could say.

“What do we do now?” Carmilla whispered with a hitch, so low that Vin could barely hear her.

With a deep inhale, he reached for her clenched fist, prying it from the bedsheet, and pulling it to his lips, and pressing a delicate kiss on her curled fingers.

“Whatever you wish to do, my queen, for that is the right you deserve.” As he pulled himself away, he gazed into her golden brown eyes, glazed with fresh tears. “You answer to no one.”

Her lip quivered, and Vin pulled her into him, the young queen burying her face in his chest. Muffled sobs escaped their embrace, tears soaking into his blouse, but he only held her tighter. And as her body shook and jumped from her frantic breaths, Vin’s mind wandered to thoughts he wished he hadn’t had to think about. To plans he would now have to devise. To the changing world he would have to embrace as a result of their misfortune. He didn’t know what was going to happen, or how complicated things would become, but what he did know was that no matter what, he would keep Carmilla safe from it all.

“Please, forgive me.” Vin whispered softly, his voice fading into the sobbing woman’s curls.

Lucas sat at the dining table, his bowl of beef stew going cold as he mindlessly pushed the potatoes and meat around with his spoon. He hardly felt in the mood to eat anything, though he knew he needed to. Reluctantly, he pulled the utensil to his mouth, parting his lips to accept a lukewarm potato. The flavor was dull, solidifying his frown.

It had been nearly three days since Carmilla’s procedure, and in all of that time, Vin hadn’t once come to the cottage. As much as Lucas tried to ignore it, the void of Vin’s presence extended to every corner of the lycan’s small home.

He let out a sigh, jabbed at a hunk of beef, before scooping it up and shoving it in his mouth. Cold. With a light huff, he dropped the spoon into the bowl and shoved it away. A frantic flutter in his abdomen drew his attention, and his hand moved to the bump, stroking it softly to calm the stirring baby.

“I know,” Lucas whispered, “I miss him, too.”

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