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Arnold let out a tired sigh, rubbing at his stinging eyes. It had been a long day with negotiations between the lords and dukes in order to pass his new law to further the flourishing of the serfs. It had taken nearly five hours to convince them of the basics of the law, and he would have to meet with them once more tomorrow to finalize the treaty and subsequent law that would soon follow. Then once he had finished that, he headed straight back to his office to continue the never ending stack of paperwork that his father loved to thrust onto him.
The halls were completely darkened, not a single candle lighting the halls. The gentle rays of moonlight peaking through the windows was all there was to light his path back to his room.
Arnold paused outside his room for a moment, turning his head to stare at the door that neighbored his. It was late, but that didn’t mean she was actually asleep. Perhaps he should check on her.
Hand slipping off the handle of the brass knob, Arnold took careful strides through the hall, careful to not make too much noise in case Rishe was truly asleep. When he stood just outside her room, Arnold placed his ear against the smooth mahogany, listening for the sound of a quill against parchment or the soft wisp of the turning of another page from the books she loves so much. But there was nothing. And when he looked down at the threshold, not even a flicker of candle light peaked through.
Perhaps she truly is asleep then, Arnold mused to himself with an amused huff. The memory of when they first met played in his mind, when she had so boldly declared that she would be as lazy and useless as possible. Even then he’d known her words to be a lie, he just hadn’t known how bold of one it truly was.
Satisfied with his findings Arnold was about to turn away when a loud scream rang out, sounding clear as war bells despite the door standing between them.
Arnold didn’t hesitate to shove the door open: it slammed from the force of his desperation.
He reached for his sword, but could only curse when all he felt was air. He’d left the weapon in his room, how foolish he was.
But as Arnold scanned his surroundings, looking for any sign of a threat or intruder he saw…nothing. Nobody was there except him and Rishe who was tossing and turning violently beneath her covers.
Taking a breath to calm himself, Arnold rushed to her bedside, noticing the pale pallor of her skin and the pained scrunch of her brow. He didn’t know what visions were plaguing her, but he knew that he couldn’t allow her to suffer under them any longer.
“Rishe,” Arnold tried calling out to her. “Rishe, you need to wake up.” But his words did nothing.
Arnold ran a hand through his hair, brows furrowing in frustration. He didn’t want to touch her if he didn’t have to, she always seemed…unhappy when he did. But this was for her health. She would forgive him for overstepping.
Her hands were fisted tightly around the quilt wrapped tightly around her, sweat beaded on her temple, breaths coming out in short gasps, a single tear trailing down her cheek despite her eyes being squeezed shut. Arnold carefully took one of her hands, tenderly running his fingers over her knuckles until they relaxed enough for him to hold them in his own. With his free hand, he cupped her cheek, running his thumb just beneath her eyes and watched as she slowly relaxed into the touch, a smile now lining her features.
Arnold felt as if a vice had been released from his heart as he watched the pain leave her features. The moon’s glow peaked past the open sliver of her drapes, casting its heavenly glow across her face making her appear almost ethereal.
He watched as her eyelids twitched, slowly fluttering open, still glazed over with sleep.
“Rishe?” Arnold whispered her name, a silent plea hidden in the way he spoke her name.
Rishe murmured something unintelligible before squeezing her eyes shut as if she were in pain.
Arnold’s heart broke as he watched her, anger filling the crevices as the weight of his uselessness sat heavy upon his shoulders.
“Rishe, are you okay? You were hyperventilating,” Arnold asked, continuing his gentle brushes atop her knuckle and just beneath the lid of her eye.
“Wha-“ Rishe’s eyes shot open as she sat up as quickly as lightning forcing Arnold to move away and drop the hand that cupped her face.
“Your-Your Majesty!” Rishe squeaked, eyes wide in horror, as if she still believed herself to be in the nightmarish vision that plagued her mind.
“Not yet,” Arnold smirked, hoping the joke would help to ease the growing tension.
Rishe turned away from him, lowering her head towards the covers. “Which life-Castle…but, no…” She lifted her hand, tugging harshly at her hair. “alive…” she gasped, “I’m alive.”
Arnold stared at her in confusion, unable to understand her muttered—almost breathless—ramblings.
“Rishe,” he tried again, taking her free hand that was still tugging at her hair, and lowering it so that it rested atop the blanket. Rishe turned to him with wide eyes: wild in the surrounding darkness.
“I’m right here. You’re safe,” he whispered slowly, cautious in his delivery.
For a few moments, Arnold was unsure if his words had any real effect on her. Her breaths still came in short, frantic bursts, worrying him further. The memory of one of the lessons Rishe had taught him only a few moons ago flashed through his mind like a blade.
Taking exaggerated breaths Arnold carefully placed both of Rishe’s hands atop his chest as he did so. “Breathe Rishe. It’s okay,” he stated calmly, keeping his gaze focused solely on the rise and fall of her chest.
They stayed like that for many minutes with Arnold keeping a watchful eye on his (soon-to-be) wife to ensure that the panic had completely faded from her body before he tried to speak to her again.
“You have these a lot, don’t you,” Arnold asked, caressing the hands still held atop his chest.
Rishe nodded silently, refusing to meet his gaze.
Arnold was shocked at her honest admission, having expected her to try to hide such things away along with all her other weaknesses. But it appeared that whatever she had seen had left her open and vulnerable with no energy to hide herself away no matter the attack.
“Do you wish to discuss it?”
Rishe shook her head, biting harshly into her bottom lip.
“Alright.”
They sat in silence: though it was not awkward, it was filled with the thick tension like that of the dawn just before a battle he knew was to end in disaster.
“Would you-“
“Stay.”
They both spoke at the same time. Arnold paused, waiting for Rishe to speak first.
“Please,” Rishe choked, “please don’t leave me.” Rishe finally turned to look at him, desperation clouding her watery eyes. “Don’t leave me too.”
Arnold’s heart ached at the sight of his wife; anger rekindled as his thoughts wandered to who would dare to hurt Rishe so deeply. He would destroy them, but not before he had them on their knees begging her for forgiveness that they would never deserve.
“Never,” he whispered, squeezing her hands gently.
Rishe watched him with wide, hesitant eyes: it was as if she were searching for any hint of a lie that single word.
“Just until I fall asleep,” Rishe added hesitantly.
Arnold rolled his eyes, knowing that he would stay with her the rest of the night, rumors be damned. He wouldn’t let her suffer alone like this any longer.
Arnold let out a soft huff, a resigned smile playing at his lips. “Scoot over.”
“Huh?!”
“I’ll be spending the night with you,” Arnold stated plainly, slowly releasing her hands. Even in the darkness he could just make out the faint outline of a blush blooming across her cheeks.
He waited for her to fight or protest his words, but was met with another surprise as she ducked her head and moved to the side. It seemed as if her night terrors had drained her of all her fighting spirit, leaving her empty. Arnold didn’t know whether to be relieved or panicked over this. Carefully climbing into her bed he decided that if such behavior persisted into the morning, that only then would he allow himself to panic.
Wrapping her in a loving embrace, Arnold pulled her close to his chest, tenderly running his finger through her soft, coral-pink hair.
“Arnold?” Rishe called, peeking up at him.
Arnold hummed deep in his chest, waiting patiently for him to fully gather her thoughts.
“If I die, will you remember me?”
Arnold stiffened, hand pausing mid stroke as he stared down at her. A dream he’d had recently—one of her charred corpse left to burn in a fire he ordered—resurfaced.
“Didn’t I tell you that I wouldn’t let that happen. I won’t let you die, Rishe,” Arnold declared boldly, looking her directly in the eye, leaving no room for doubt. “If nothing else, please trust me when I say that.”
Rishe stared up at him with awestruck eyes. It was as if he were the only to say such things, the only one to truly console her fears. Such thoughts only added to the eternal flame of anger that burned in righteous fury on Rishe’s behalf.
“I trust you,” Rishe whispered, sounding almost breathless.
Arnold smiled down at her, some of the weight being lifted from his shoulders at her words. She was so vulnerable right now, so open. Though she was not crying like times before, he thought that this was the closest they’d ever been.
“Thank you,” Arnold whispered, placing an affectionate kiss to the crown of her head before continuing to run his fingers through her hair, gently scratching at her scalp in a calming manner.
Arnold watched as her eyes began to grow heavy once more, breaths evening out in a gentle rhythm, a peaceful smile still etched across her lips.
A sense of peace washed over him. Never once had he envisioned himself in such a state. Never once had he seen himself becoming so… “domestic”. Yet, as he continued to lay beside this beautiful woman who vowed to stand beside him, he couldn’t imagine anything different, nothing that brought him such calm, such joy—joy which he never thought he’d ever be able to experience, only observe—as he felt now.
Placing one last kiss to the center of her brow, he whispered into the quiet of the night, with only the ghosts that haunted this wicked castle to witness: “Thank you, Rishe. I love you.”
The words seemed to hang over him like a deserter’s noose. If his father knew even a fraction of how much he cared for her, Arnold knew that he would be doomed. That his plan to kill the bastard would be over before it could truly begin with Rishe as his leverage. But Arnold wouldn’t let that happen.
“I’ll protect you. Nobody will be able to touch even a hair on your head,” Arnold vowed with only the full moon as his witness.
Nobody would be able to get to her. He would destroy anyone that dared to even whisper the beginnings of a plot to remove her from his side. Rishe was his wife, and he would not allow her to suffer alone like this ever again.