Chapter 1

Her dark ringlets reflect the afternoon sun as she sleeps peacefully in my arms. I'm tempted to run my finger over her delicate rosy cheek but I do not wish to disturb her so instead, I settle for brushing the smooth skin of her calf. As I study her, I want to place a soft kiss on her forehead but again, I do not have the heart to wake her and surely the stubble on my chin will do the trick.

"Uncle Tom, play with me!" my nephew Everett pleads.

I tear my eyes away from my niece, Evie, and watch the almost two year old as he spins in circles in the courtyard, earning a chuckle.

"Aren't you dizzy yet?" I ask him, looking back down to my niece. It's hard to believe that something so precious could come from my brother, but then again Cora herself is somewhat of an angel.

Evie stirs in her sleep and lets out a yawn before slipping back soundly into her dreams.

He stops and brushes his blonde hair from his eye and toddles as he regains his balance. "No! Play!" he demands.

"I can't play right now Ev, I have your baby sister," I say, holding her up slightly as if to remind him.

He frowns before running over to the two of us. Given that I'm sitting down on one of the benches that overlooks the courtyard, he stands on his tip toes and stares at his sister for a moment. "She's pretty," he says, giving me a grin.

I nod and ruffle his hair. "Aye, she sis. Just like your mother," I say, then give his nose a boop.

"Thank you for the hundredth time," I hear a familiar voice say, and we both look up to see Cora and Crispin making their way towards us. By their flushed looks and messy hair, I'd say they were doing more than just gathering their belongings for their journey back home.

Shaking my head, I stand up and meet them halfway across the courtyard before handing Evie back over to her mother.

Looking down at Crispin's misbuttoned shirt, I give a smirk. "Missed one," I say, pointing it out. He returns my grin and adjusts himself before scooping Everett up into his arms.

"I swear you two are worse than rabbits. If I had known you were making me babysit just so you could scr-" I begin, but Cora cuts me off with a look.

"Need I remind you that he repeats almost everything you say? I don't need you teaching him any more bad words; it took him three weeks to forget about...s-h-i-t," she spells out. When I let out a laugh, she rolls her eyes.

Deciding that it's time to be serious and talk about the matter as to why we are here, I turn to my brother. "So, how is he?" I ask, expecting the worst.

His face falls and he runs a hand through his dark hair. "About the same. His handmaid said she was only able to coax half a bowl of soup down him this morning," he replies. Everett's eyebrows raise and he looks up at his dad.

"Granddaddy doesn't feel good," he tells him. Crispin nods his head and Everett leans forward, laying his head down on his chest.

"Does she have any idea what's wrong with him?" I ask, trying to hide my worry.

Crispin gives a shrug. "Not really. She said that it's being spreading throughout the lands though. The odds of making it are one in two supposedly."

"Hm," I say, weighing those odds. "Well I think I better go see him before I set off myself. Is Rory still up there?"

Cora gives a silent nod. "When you do leave, be careful Thomas. I've been hearing that things are getting bad down south," she says. I want to ask her who she has heard these rumors from considering they hardly go anywhere now that they have two children, but I hold my tongue, knowing that if I did it would come out harshly.

The stress of fighting the ongoing war for the past year on top of facing the strong possibility that I might become king soon has been weighing me down. That and the constant thoughts of Rowena have all but drained me and I find that my social skills typically run out by nightfall.

She's right of course, last I heard was that even though we were gaining the upper hand, many of the men were falling sick themselves or succumbing to the elements. The south carries not only millions of insects and stale water, but blistering heat that still lingers in the dead of night. On top of that, every once in a while a few lone bears will make their way into the camp and not only destroy the food supply but sometimes take a man or two down with them in the process.

"I will," I promise.

She pulls me into a hug and I return it before bending down and placing a soft kiss on Evie's temple. I was right about my stubble, because she awakens and begins to cry which earns a tired look from her mother. Sheepishly, I turn to Crispin and we embrace before I pat Everett on the head. "See you. I'll try to write when I can. You guys have a safe trip back home," I say, waving. They themselves have returned to the palace to visit with the ill king, not knowing if or when he will pull through.

Turning around, I make my way into the palace and navigate the expanse of halls with ease, knowing the place like the back of my hand. When I make it to my father's quarters, I'm not surprised to find four guards standing outside of his door.

"Men," I greet, giving my head a nod. They do the same and step aside, allowing me entrance.

When I slip into the room, my nose wrinkles. It's dank and smells of body odor and bile. The curtains are kept closed—daylight hurts his eyes apparently. In the dim firelight, I see Rory sits at the round table, finishing up his lunch. His usual handsome face looks tired and puffy as bags form under his green eyes. His dark hair needs to be brushed and can use a change of clothes.

"Hey," I say quietly, closing the door behind me. I glance at my father's form and see that he is asleep. "Anything?" I ask, making my way over to the wooden chair that is now kept by his bedside. Rory gives his head a shake and takes a sip of whatever liquid is in his cup.

"No," he replies in his husky voice. "Fell asleep about an hour ago."

I give a nod and sit down in the chair, studying my father's face. Sweat beads cover his forehead while his chest falls and rises rapidly with each shallow breath. I take his hand in mine and notice how hot it feels against my skin.

Looking back over to my brother, I notice the pained look on his face. When we were younger he looked up to our father the most out of the four of us, but once he got a taste of women they became his new idol. When we first received word that the king was sick at camp, he raced back to Paevia alone—cut the eight week journey in half hardly stopping to eat or rest. I myself had to stay behind for a few days to tie up loose ends and figure out our next course of action for the war. Once I was done, me and a group of men raced back home, arriving a few short days ago.

From what I've both heard and seen, Rory has hardly left his side since his arrival. When his older flings would call for him asking for his company, I was surprised he turned them down—rather harshly from the whispers I've overheard in the halls.

He'd always had the best luck when it came to women out of the three of us, though Crispin wasn't too far behind him. Standing just over six and a half feet he was the tallest as well. Typically, he kept his deep chestnut hair styled intricately, leaving a few strays hanging in ever-so-slightly into his almond eyes that drove the girls crazy and loved to wear clothing that showed off his physique. "I worked for it so why not?" is his usual reply when I tease him about the need to display his muscles.

Most would assume by his deep voice and large stature that he would be the eldest brother, but his childlike face always gives him away.

"This is horse shit," he mutters. "How can someone so strong and healthy take a sudden turn and become so ill? I don't get it."

Pursing my lips, I try to think of what I could say to console him. Typically, I feel being the eldest sibling, it's my job to protect my brothers and sister as best I can, even from heartache, but the words elude me. Instead, I give a shake of my head. "Parent's don't live forever Rory, you and I both know that with mom," I say softly. "The only thing we can do at this point is hope that he gets better."

He scoffs and gazes into the fireplace, crossing his strong arms over his chest. "Get better? We'd need a miracle. He can't even get up to go to the bathroom anymore. The nurse and handmaid have to come in here to wipe his ass everyday Tom, you'd know that if you spent more time with him."

My eyes narrow at him. "You know damn well I can't be here every minute. There's meetings I have to attend in his place, hearings I have to go to for the citizens," I reply, daring him to counter. Instead, he lets out a slow exhale and gives me a nod.

"I know, forgive me. I just...I hate seeing him like this and I afraid," he explains. I understand where he is coming from of course—he, Crispin and I have been through a lot these past few weeks.

"You know Rose hasn't even sent word back, don't you?" he asks. "I had a feeling that when the time would come that we would need her she'd choose her band of heathens over us. Looks like I was right."

Running my thumb over my father's steaming hand, I don't even bother looking up to meet Rory's eye. "You don't know that to be fact Rory. She could have a sent a raven and it went astray or was killed—they're birds after all."

He sighs again, knowing that I'm right. "You've always been the one that looks for the good in most situations," he states. At this I give him a small smile.

"Why don't you take a hot bath and get some rest. I'll stay with him for a bit," I suggest. When he begins to protest I cut him off. "I wasn't just being nice to you when I suggested you bathe. You reek," I tease. "Take care of yourself yeah? We won't be staying here much longer."

His smile falters as my last sentence sinks in. "You mean we're leaving already? We just got here! What if he-" he begins, but there is another voice that interjects this time. It's ragged and weak but I could pick it out from a crowd with ease.

"Dies?" father asks, finishing his sentence.

My gaze turns instantly towards him and I automatically tighten my grip on his hand. He falls into a coughing fit and Rory quickly comes to the opposite side of his bed.

"Hey pop, how are you feeling?" I ask, brushing the hair that is stuck to his forehead away.

"What a stupid question," I hear Rory mutter to himself. I ignore him and force a smile as the king turns to me.

"Never been better," he jokes, releasing my hand. He goes to try to sit himself up but his arms begin to shake. Immediately, Rory and I help him forward and adjust him to where his back leans against his immaculate headboard. "Could one of you two bring me some water?"

Rory grabs a cup off of the table and fills it with a pitcher of water I failed to notice before. He then returns and brings it to his mouth where he laps at it slowly.

When he's had his fill, he gives a nod and Rory kneels down, cup still in hand.

"Did Cora and Crispin leave already?" father asks.

"Aye. Not too long ago actually. They stopped by for a while but you were asleep," I answer.

He lets out a quick exhale and shakes his head. "Pity. I would have loved to see Everett and Evie before they left. Oh well, there's always next time," he says.

There is a moment of silence that fills the air and I can't help but wonder if there ever will be a next time, and by the look on my brother's face I can tell he is thinking the same thing too.

"When are you headed out?" he asks before letting out a few more coughs.

"Probably tomorrow morning. Seems as if wars could care less about family emergencies," I say lightly in hopes it will earn a smile from him. It does though it seems forced.

He then turns to Rory who looks as if he is dealing with some sort of conflict in his mind. "You are to go with your brother, do you understand? There's no need for you to be lingering around like a stray cat while you can be useful in the field."

Rory's green eyes widen and he jerks his head. "With all due respect, I feel as if I'm better off here watching over you," he states. "What if...well, what if something were to happen? What then?"

Our father gives his shoulders a shrug, "I have nurses and handmaids to take care of me. And if something were to happen, then that would be that. Besides, Crispin and Cora only live a few hours away, they could be here to take care any arrangements if necessary."

"But-" Rory begins before he is cut off.

"It will be okay, son. Worry about Paevia," he says before coughing. When he's done, he looks Rory up and down and wrinkles his nose. "When was the last time you took a bath?"

Rory lifts up an arm and takes a sniff, causing his own nose to shrink in disgust. "I guess you could say it's been a few days," he answers, "Fine fine," he waves, "I can take a hint. I'll drop by tonight to say goodbye." Leaning forward, he presses his lips to our father's forehead before leaving silently without another word.

As soon as the door closes, he turns to me with a serious expression. "Thomas, I think we both know that my days are numbered," he begins. "I feel myself getting weaker by the day and when I go, I want to leave this world knowing that Paevia will be left in good hands."

His words take me off guard and I feel my throat tighten. "I promise to do what I think is best for our people, to put them first," I say. I always felt confident that I could fill my father's shoes well enough when it came to ruling, but now that the time draws nigh I'll admit I have my reservations.

He gives me a small smile and releases my hand before cradling the left side of my cheek in it. Physical touch was rare when it came to him unless you count the spankings growing up as a child. These moments where he displayed his love for his children were rare but welcomed.

"I love you Thomas. I know that I may have not been the best father in the world, but I've tried to do right by your mother as best as I can. I've made many mistakes and probably have said things that you and your siblings will never forget, but..." he trails, trying to find his words, "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm proud of you—all of you."

There is a small threat of tears that threatens to spill, but I feel as if I need to be the strong one for the both of us. So, as usual, I try to make light of the situation. "Come on old man, don't tell me you're going soft on me," I say.

He laughs—hard—and falls into another fit of coughs. Seeing as there isn't much I can do, I reach over and grab the cup pf water Rory left behind and hand it to him. He takes long draws and hands it back to me when he's finished.

"Guess I'll just blame it on the fever," he tells me and I chuckle.

"Well, there's one last meeting I have to attend before I leave. I better get to it, you know how the chancellor can get when he's kept waiting," I say as I stand up. "Can I get you anything?"

He shakes his head and slips back down into his bed, "No thank you son. See you in the morning," he replies in a tired voice.

Sitting the now empty cup of water on his bedside table, I quietly exit the room and make my way to the great hall to deal with my father's court.

- - - - - -

Here's "Thomas" and "Rory"to maybe give you an idea? Idk, I thought they were gorgeous and looked like the dude I pictured Crispin to be 😂

Thomas Carlyle (no idea who this dude is)

Rory Carlyle (again, idk who this dude is but 😍)

Huge shoutout to bellereve9 for this cover art!!!!!!❤️🥰❤️❤️❤️