Playing with Fire

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"Good, because you would have no ability to stop me even if you wanted to. Actually, no... scratch that," she laughed humorlessly, "You have no right to stop me." She stepped away from where she was stood checking her reflection in the mirror on the one side of the wall. Her expression was akin to ice - cold and unyielding, a muscle in her jaw jumping every so often. However her eyes betrayed her, portraying the anger and irritation she felt at him even speaking to her.

At that moment in time, she didn't want to hear about his love for their son. If anything, it only angered her more. For him to claim he loved Lorcan after having had an affair that ruined their son's family. For him to tell her that he was going to punish those who took him, knowing full well that one of those people would be Eris and knowing full well that he had already been tasked with getting rid of her once but being unable to do so. And for him to think that telling her he wasn't going to stop her was something he ought to be applauded for. She didn't care if he would or wouldn't try to stop her.

Carina wouldn't let him stop her even if he wanted to.

"I don't know what you would like me to say in response to you telling me you want stop me, Sven." She continued, shifting the forearm pieces before looking back up to him, eyes narrowed as she surveyed him in his own armour. Of course she had her own concern on his safety, she had loved him and probably still did under all the layers of hurt and pain and betrayal and fury. But it was buried too deep for now and her adrenaline was too focused on getting Lorcan back.

"Do you want me to thank you? To get on my knees and kiss your feet for letting me ride along your great and powerful Ignisian army? Or-- or perhaps you want me to be grateful that you are riding into battle for our son too. Maybe you're hoping that with me coming, we'll rekindle our love and that I'll forgive you over the spilt blood of your mistress."

Her voice had become harsher and harsher, her tongue sharper and her words venomous and barbed. The metal on her forearms had started taking on a misty coating, hinting to the ice that was starting to form over the pieces of armour that were to keep her safe. Abruptly, the young queen shook out her hands and her head, a soft growl sounding under her breath.

"Just don't get in my way. I can't guarantee who I'll see as my enemy once the battle starts." The threat was thick in the tension she allowed it to bring, uncaring to the hurt it may cause as she tore past him, ensuring she didn't even brush past him in the space of the armoury. She knew she wouldn't really hurt him, however she wanted him to stay away from her. If her displays of power from the morning were coupled up with the threat she had just dished out, then hopefully he would keep his distance.

The last thing Carina wanted was her patience tested again. He had been close enough to some repercussion already.
 
If Sven was under any apprehension that this war would bring them back together, that the chaos and the bloodshed they would inevitably encounter would lead Carina seeking comfort back in his arms once again, then her bitterness and her threats against such a scenario immediately dismissed the hope before it had even really sprung up. He knew there was a great amount of hatred and disgust thrust at him at the moment, but he had to believe, had to hope, that time would heal such wounds; that the horrors of the war would make her realise that, in spite of his faults and his flaws, he was the source of comfort and stability that she truly wanted.

That, together, they made a great team and could go on to repair their distrust and become a great family once again.

That thought had now been dismissed entirely, with Sven unable to delude himself a second further that there was anything left to rescue between them. It wasn't exactly the best mind frame to head into a potentially bloody, destructive war with, the hopelessness sinking in and rendering him more lost, more uneasy, than ever before, but... it was reality, and avoiding it, deluding himself into thinking that he had a future with Carina to look forward to after it all concluded, was unhealthy and unwise.

No, even if it came as a detriment to his morale, even if it made the fear intensify and his mood deteriorate, even if his emotions swelled unwelcomingly and made his veins burn with the fire within him, recognising the reality of his situation was something he had to do to spare himself of future heartbreak. It had all been brought on himself so he knew he had no right to wallow in the self-pity of it all but he wasn't capable of just switching off his emotions and acting as though everything he was coming to accept didn't have an emotional consequence.

Learning that the only woman he had ever loved was done with him, that they had no hope of reconnecting and salvaging their marriage, was always going to be a knife to the heart - and the fact he had to head into war, lead some of his troops to their deaths, meant he didn't even have the time to recover from the distress it was all causing him. He had to do his best to put on a brave face and accept the duty that fell on him as King, rather than sit aside and healthily reflect upon his screwups and reach an acceptance of the consequences of it.

The final threat that landed at his door was one that hurt the most, because he knew it wasn't made just out of anger; they weren't just heated words designed to hurt him. Carina had once planned to end his life, that was true, but that was also before they fell in love, before they grew to like and adore one another. The seriousness behind the threat was the final dagger to his heart; the last piece of evidence he really needed to convince himself that all they had was... gone now, broken apart and crumbled to ash.

There was no time to get a final word in (not that he would do anyway) as she glided past him on the way out of the room, his expression breaking a little more at the difficulty of it all, but he had no real time to dedicate to understanding the depth of grief hitting him.

Not when there was a war to commence; troops he, as their King, had to lead into West Torterrian territory, however much he wanted to avoid the duty (as his father would have happily done) and return to the comfort of his bed.
 
A whole week Carina went without having Lorcan in her arms. A whole week she kept to herself on the battlefield, alone with her thoughts on what to do once the fight was over. With Natalia back in the capital of Ignis, avoiding Sven and Andrew having been drafted in to look after the horses that came to the fight with them, the young queen had no one that she could speak to. However, she was grateful for that. She didn't want anyone constantly asking her how she was doing. She was content to have people come and go from her tent to bring food, hot water for baths or to update her on battle plans. Even if the danger of being left alone with such dark and powerful thoughts was imminent.

She was becoming impatient with how slow the fight was taking. To her, each day that they were fighting on the battlefield was another day that Eris and the King of West Torterrian could decide to kill Lorcan. The thought fuelled her each morning, pushing her through the exhaustion she felt and the pain that her body was going through, the blisters on her feet and the rubbed raw skin of her inner thighs from where the saddle and her trousers created friction.

Carina ensured she was nowhere near Sven each time they went into battle. While deep down there was the concern of if he was okay, there was no real room for that at the forefront of her mind. Some days she felt like she could hardly breathe due to the pressure pushing down her chest, leaving the young queen to hyperventilate in her tent on one or two occasions as she thought too much about her situation.

A missing son who could face death at any moment, whose body or head she could one day see on the battlefield because he had been slain by their enemies. A husband who had broken his promise and slept with a woman he said he would no longer see and a husband who then tried to manipulate her, who tried to lay the blame at her feet. A kingdom that was threatening to break apart and crumble due to the war.

However, a breakthrough emerged on day six of the fight, allowing the Ignisian forces to surge forward and by day eight, they were at the West Torterrian castle.

She was no life-hardened soldier who had been in countless fights before, involved in armies and fought for Ignis before, but she had the motivation. In her mind, she had survived enough and war, one that she never wanted in the first place, was not about to kill her.

Carina very much acted as Sven's father did the day that he took Eira, surging through the halls with her own band of soldiers and allowing her ice to eat at everything. The servants were left alone, but those who wielded swords or shot arrows her way were made to pay the ultimate price. She wanted her presence to be felt. She wanted to think of Eris and her new king fleeing from the ice that was crawling after them, not because it was slow to keep up, but because it was taking its time, knowing it would reach its prey eventually.

Whilst those in servant uniforms were left alone, that didn't stop Carina from moving to one to grab a young woman by the collar of her dress, pulling her in close. She could feel her trembling, even see the slight tremors as she stared up in terror at the Queen of Ignis.

"My son," she started coolly, "Where is he being kept?"

After receiving the necessary directions, Carina released her and rolled her shoulders back, paying no mind as the girl fled down the hall with a door slamming behind her. "Carry on to secure castle with the rest of the battalion, I'll be fine from here." She ordered, turning to face the group that had come with her. "That is an order. Go."
 
Any fears Sven had had prior to the commencement of war, any terror he felt at the prospect of what awaited him on the battlefields, didn't evaporate once he was introduced into the violence and the bloodshed. On the contrary, every fear, every anxiety, intensified once thrown into the flux of the battle, to the point that, as cowardly as it might have been considered to be, Sven often found himself contemplating an escape; developing a way to effectively abandon the process entirely and make his way home to Ignis where he could be safe.

Of course, he never did such a thing, always dissuaded at the final moment from following through on those thoughts whenever he considered his son's predicament, but that didn't mean those thoughts weren't always temptingly present in his mind, taunting him with the promise of safety and security in his homeland. Nothing would prevent him from seeking out his son, not when the paternal love and desire to protect Lorcan would override every single one of his almost debilitating fears, but because of those fears, Sven wasn't able to heroically battle his way to West Torterria shrouded in bravery and glory.

No, though he triumphed in his battles as a result of his years of tactical training and strength-building, he did so as a nervous wreck, returning to his tent on the verge of a complete breakdown, undoubtedly exacerbated by the realisation that he didn't even know what he was fighting for. The retrieval of his son aside, what waited for him back in Ignis? A (soon to be ex) wife who couldn't stand the sight of him? A son who would possibly grow up in Eira and be fed the truth of how his father broke apart his family? A kingdom who had lost faith in his ability to rule honourably and with good faith?

The latter would never have been a fear of his, with Sven often being supremely confident in his ability to manipulate those around him to place himself in the best position to rule as possible - but when that cloud had been lifted, when his people were able to see beyond the manipulation, what hope was there for him to crawl his way back to a position of respect and admiration? All he had wanted when he was growing up was to be on the throne, to have the respect of his people and finally be acknowledged as someone who was capable and dependable. Someone who could bring forth change for the benefit and betterment of Ignis. His parents had never cared to give their son the respect he deserved, never once saw him as a worthwhile candidate for ruling the kingdom, but that had only made him more motivated to prove them wrong; to stamp his authority down on the role as King and make Ignis -and its people- a proud place once again.

The war was a good chance to consolidate his popularity; to continue to show his people that he worked for them first and foremost, that he would protect their honour as Ignisians by laying his life on the line for them - but the chance of that, of being the King he had always imagined himself being in their eyes, was slipping away more by the day. The past few days had proven that his antics and his behaviour were having a detrimental effect - he wasn't blind to the glances or deaf to the whispers that arose whenever he passed his knights, and even if he were, then their actions in avoiding his tent to check in on their King spoke volumes. As such, Sven was left to return to that tent alone each night after each battle; left to wallow in self-pity and acknowledge that never before had he felt as alone as he did, with a bleak future growing dimmer and more hopeless by the day.

Because he didn't have his family, had no friends - and from the treatment he was receiving from his own soldiers, he wasn't naive enough to believe that he even had his people, his kingdom, on his side anymore. He felt like a child again, existing in a world where those around him overlooked and dismissed him entirely, though he didn't have the ambition, the optimism, that his young self had once had; the fire in his belly that kept him going, however difficult his circumstances became. He didn't have that because he had squandered it all; thrown all that goodwill he had developed to the side and ruptured the respect he had earned for nothing, which was why he couldn't even cling to the sense of injustice or unfairness to fire him up to fight back.

Because everything wrong in his life, every moment of despair, was entirely of his own doing - and the consequences, however emotionally draining, were things he had to rightfully suffer through. It wasn't ideal to do so during a war, that much was true, but he fought on regardless, able to put his personal difficulties aside in order to focus solely on his son whenever he was on the battlefield. The venture into West Torterria was a relief for that reason alone - it signalled a potential end to the warfare and would allow him to return to Ignis (even if nothing positive awaited him home, he could at least take comfort from the safety and security of his bedroom), but the only thought that entered Sven's mind as he fought his way to the castle with his own circle of knights was the rescue of his son. Countless flaws aside, however selfish and narcissistic and manipulative Sven could be, Lorcan was his world, the sole source of happiness and joy and love for him these days, and nothing would stop him from rescuing him; of returning him home where he belonged.

The juxtaposition to the last time he stormed a castle wasn't lost on him. He had done so in Eira with a smirk on his face, megalomaniacally thriving off the bloodshed and the violence that he left in his wake, but that was before he had lost everything he, at that time, had optimistically yearned for. While he still unashamedly enjoyed the feeling of leaning into that darker side and all of the troubling elements that comprised it, how could he enjoy the battle when-- there was nothing positive at the end of it outside of Lorcan's return? And even with his return, there was every chance he would be snatched up by Carina to reside in Eira, where Sven would barely see him. As such, he couldn't slaughter his way through the corridors with characteristic arrogance, he couldn't feed that power hungry nature; not when his heart weighed heavily in his chest and caused fear to crush his egotism and anxiety to dominate his megalomaniacal tendencies.

Having been separated from Carina for the duration of the battles (not willingly, but her desire to be as far from him as she could wasn't lost on him) the sight of her ice creeping along the walls of the castle was, initially, a welcome one, though that joy began to dip as he considered just why the expulsion of her powers had occurred? Was she hurt? Was it a result of some emotional outpouring at bad news? The thoughts cascaded at full volume as his anxiety increased, ordering his own knights from his side in order to explore the route the ice presented for him without their presence. He doubted they wanted to be at his side anyway, their disgruntlement with his behaviour having been unsubtle as the days passed by, so dismissing them to secure the grounds outside was a win-win for all concerned, because he really didn't want to have his growing fear witnessed by any of them.

He clutched his sword tightly in his dominant hand as he followed the clues, leading him slowly to Carina's new location. Before Sven arrived, however, King Phillippe of West Torterria resided in the far room, at the highest floor, of the castle, rubbing his temples in undisguised rage as he observed the chaos commencing in his kingdom. He had no intention of running out brandishing a sword when it was obvious to him from observation alone that his troops were overwhelmed by the element of surprise. It had been unwise to assume that the kidnapping of Lorcan wouldn't result in this ferocity, but, perhaps blinded by the feeling of security Eris' insight provided him, Phillippe hadn't been anticipating the war this early; not when he knew for a fact that the Ignisian preparations were weeks off from completion.

Evidently, taking Lorcan had thrust all those preparations forward and resulted in this, Phillippe's treasured castle being stormed and his kingdom overrun.

"...Why the hell did you take the child? You must have anticipated this, Eris. This reaction. This is all on you, you know that? I didn't disagree but-- this is your fault, I'm not taking blame for this," he muttered sharply as he eyed Lorcan in the far corner of the room, his lip turning up in disgust at the baby's grizzling. It only provided him with another headache as he turned his eyes back to the capital below him, clutching his gun tightly in his hand in preparation for the door to their hidden room to be kicked open at any given moment. He exhaled a breath as his dark eyes momentarily shut, the handsome features of his face contorted with rage and embarrassment at the losing position his people currently held.

The sound of a servant's scream somewhere within the castle made him flinch, his eyes darting to Eris to confirm that he wasn't imagining things.

"Arm yourself," he continued, his posture shifting to defensiveness as he released the safety to the gun and prepared himself for the inevitable invasion. "If it's that Eirian bitch, shoot on sight. We know what she's capable of so don't hesitate, do you understand? And keep that-- that child hidden, it might buy us time to launch an attack if she doesn't see the kid immediately; if she spends second scouring the room for him."
 
"I anticipated this reaction, yes. But I also, clearly stupidly, thought that you and your forces were more than capable of handling yourselves." Eris retorted from where she lounged on the chaise longue, her weapon on the table besides it. She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the King's reaction, turning her head away for her gaze to land on the child in question. "You forget what anger makes people do, Phillippe. It makes them unpredictable but also makes them weak. This is the moment to strike-- yet it seems as though you couldn't even do that in the end."

The dark haired woman pushed herself to her feet, scoffing quietly as she moved to the drinks table to pour herself a small glass of whiskey. She often wondered what it would have been like to have been a fly on the wall in the nursery the day that Lorcan was found to be missing. She had to imagine what the reactions from the king and queen where like, when they were told their beloved child was gone.

Of course by this point, rumours had also reached West Torterria about the king's infidelity and it filled Eris with glee. She knew what that meant - an uncontrolled Carina. She had been watching the day Carina had been let loose on the five men that threatened her life (and the life of her unborn child at the time). She had seen the queen's reactions each time she saw Eris on Sven's arm, dealt with the sharp and biting insults that had been thrown her way. She could only imagine how it all went down when the truth came out.

While Eris knew she ought to be afraid of what Carina could potentially do with her ice, she also knew that the rage and passion that the young queen would be feeling meant she would be blinded. She would be unable to see through the thick fog made up of a desire for revenge and a determination to retrieve her son.

However, she did as she was told, moving back to the chaise longue to collect her weapon as she casually sipped on her drink, "You're far too tense, darling Phillippe," she smirked, putting the drink down and stepping towards him to run her hand down from his upper arm to his wrist and back up again, "I've promised you a victory, and you will have it."

She reached up to press her lips to his cheek, moving onto his earlobe next before pulling back to whisper into it, "The Ignisian monarchs will be too caught up in their emotions to protect themselves properly. They will have no care for their own safety, only that of their child and sole heir... You will strike them when they are most vulnerable and claim Ignis and Eira for yourself. Don't dare doubt that, or me."
 
"I have an entire kingdom being invaded, Eris. I think the tension I feel is entirely justified," he muttered swiftly in return, his jaw set tightly as he forced himself not to take his growing anger out on the other. Was he tempted to unleash some of the tension by rising to one of her remarks? Oh, undoubtedly - but he bit his tongue, too grateful for Eris' information over the past weeks to disrupt a mutually beneficial relationship over his own unease. He wasn't Sven, head over heels with the woman, but he was smart - he needed a Queen, with his advisors having pushed the matter the longer his bachelordom ran on, and Eris was the perfect candidate.

He didn't need to love her for their pairing to work. She had already proved herself monumentally useful in her leaking of information, in helping the West Torterrian troops prepare accordingly with that knowledge on hand, so Phillippe would be a fool to dismiss her idea of a union. He had desires for his reach as King to extend beyond the walls of West Torterria, for his authority to reign over Ignis, over Eira, over countless other nations until he had an empire under his control. He could do so alone, he was in no doubt over his skills, but Eris had already proven that her own skills would prove invaluable in those endeavours.

No love had to exist for them to enjoy the benefits of combining their talents - though that coming together didn't mean they couldn't have fun, his gaze over her clouded by a moment of lust before he was able to gather himself and prioritise the task ahead of them. It was all well and good imagining the future they would have together, ruling the empire he had always desired, but they had to actually succeed in this war first - and from the observations of his kingdom, that success wasn't looking as guaranteed as he wanted it to be.

Thus, Phillippe proceeded to fall silent as he returned his gaze to the window, his mind not exactly comforted by the sight of the violence taking place below him but he had to take it in; he had to analyse the scene unfolding beneath him if he wanted a chance to triumph through it and end the night celebrating raucously with Eris at his side.

His eyes only returned to the woman at her decision to leave the comfort of the chaise longue once more, a brow arched at the confidence oozing from her lips and settled so comfortably upon her features. Phillippe was a confident man -he wouldn't have taken on Ignis if he wasn't confident of victory against them- but the sight of his kingdom in devastation, the bodies of his soldiers scattered across the ground, hardly filled him with belief of triumph. Seeing Eris so settled on that fact, even despite evidence starting to pile up in favour of the latter, was remarkable, a smile pulling at his own lips in response to the display.

"You really need to remember to watch your tone, you aren't my Queen yet. If this all fails, I have no loyalty to you. If you want to come out of this all with a future at my side, you'd do best to remember that respect goes a long way. You aren't on a level where you can speak to me like this," he reprimanded without subtlety, unwilling to disguise how unimpressed he was with the casualness of her tone. Did he find her confidence attractive? Incredibly so, it was one of the things that drew him to her in the first place - but again, he wasn't Sven who was happy to overlook the other's lack of royal status in favour of enjoying what Eris brought to his life. No, he was always acutely aware that Eris wasn't of royal blood - aristocratic, elite blood, perhaps, but not royal, where she could justify her tone with him. Thus, as much as he enjoyed their time together, as attractive as he found her schemes and her antics, Phillippe always demanded respect; always anticipated his status as King to be recognised.

Even now, in the midst of war, that expectation continued as strong as ever.

Irrespective of the chastisement, his hand came to rest upon her cheek, the hard gaze behind his eyes softening in his fondness of her.

"I remind you not to doubt me either. My soldiers are dispensable; let them sacrifice themselves, it's all for the greater good. But we'll triumph, you and I. I've no doubt of that, my dear. Just be on guard is all I ask. It's best not to underestimate the Ignisian passion-- nor the love of a mother."
 
Carina made short work of anyone who stood in her way on the way to the secret location that had been revealed to her. How pathetic and pitiful she found it that Eris and Phillippe both hid themselves away while their people died for the mistakes that they had made. It only served to fuel her anger, driving her on as she stalked the corridors and allowed her ice to act as a breadcrumb trail for anyone who wished to know where she was going. Not that she cared if they did - they specifically being Sven. All that was on her mind was Lorcan and what she would do to Eris and Phillippe if she found a single hair out of place on her son's head.

One of the West Torterrian guards who Carina had picked up and forced to join her along the way had revealed the location of the door to her before meeting a swift, merciful end. Her heart pounded as she stood on the other side to what she hoped would be Lorcan, briefly terrified to storm in. That fear caused by the unknown of what awaited her on the other side, such as her child's lifeless body. That was the ultimate worst ending. If that was what greeted her... Carina wasn't sure what she would do.

However, her instincts drove her forward as she found her way in, not thinking anything of the unlocked door other than perhaps Eris and Phillippe having made a hasty escape. The room was dimly lit, the open windows allowing the sounds of battle to drift in along with the faint scent of smoke (either from Sven's flames or other explosions, she wasn't certain). Her gaze darted around the room as she tried to spot any sign of Lorcan, taking in the empty whiskey tumbler on the table near the chaise lounge and a discarded baby blanket over the arm of a chair. Immediately, Carina's heartrate spiked at a soft gurgle from the corner of the room, body twisting to see a crib pushed up against the far wall.

The monarch wasted no time in getting to the crib, tears of relief flooding her eyes at the sight of Lorcan's blue eyes blinking back up at her.

"Oh my baby. My darling boy. I've got you. Mummy's got you." She gasped quietly, leaning over to begin cradling him in her arms. As she pushed back some of his fine red hair, she froze at the sound of a clicking gun, body tensing and hand stilling as an amused chuckle filled the air.

"My, oh my, Carina darling. You're honestly too predictable." Eris smirked, gun raised and pointed at the young queen.

Carina slowly turned having returned Lorcan to the crib, fearful of him getting harmed in the crossfire. Her hands raised in line with her shoulders, however, a faint twitch of her fingers had Eris firing a warning shot just off to the right of Carina who flinched and ducked to the side.

"Careful there, Carina. I'd hate for something to happen to either of you because you couldn't keep that ice of yours under control." Eris cooed, cocking her gun again.

The Ignisian queen glanced between Eris and Phillippe, deciding to lower her hands and place them behind her back in a show of intent to do as she was told. "Let me get Lorcan somewhere safe, then we can have it out. All of us. But not with Lorcan here. He is not a part of this. He's just a baby."

Eris hummed as if in consideration before shaking her head, "No, I don't think so. You see, if we let you go now, we may never see you again. And we were so hoping to end things right here and right now..."

Everything happened in slow motion for Carina after that. At the sound of guns firing, she turned her body away to ensure that it covered Lorcan's cot. Her hands were thrown out in front of her for protection and ice shot out as splintered pieces as a result. Pain, unlike anything she had felt before, ripped up the side of her body. Worse than when Sven had caught her with his flames. It caused her to lose the feeling in her legs and the next thing she was aware of was her body hitting the ground besides Lorcan's crib as the toddler screamed and cried within it. She was vaguely aware of Eris also hitting the floor not long after her, with multiple shards of ice piercing the woman's left upper leg and the left side of her ribcage and stomach. Her concern for Phillippe's whereabouts was left unchallenged as she soon became aware of a warmth spilling from her stomach.

Carina's hands shook as they moved to touch the area from where it was coming from, only for the young queen to gasp and her breathing to accelerate as a sharp pain greeted her. The armour she had put on to protect herself had buckled and curled in with the entry point of the bullet, the red of her blood staining the steel as Carina struggled to figure out how to apply pressure to the wound. Lorcan's screams were also scarring her, with her being unable to sit up and comfort her child without yelling out in pain and falling back to lay out on the ground. Black spots were soon appearing in her gaze and she turned her head towards the door, a heaviness weighing on her chest and making it difficult to breathe as she prayed for the next person through the door to be an Ignisian.

Something she never thought she would want ever again.
 
It hadn't been previously discussed just what would happen when Carina eventually made her appearance, but Phillippe didn't think plans of that nature had to be put in place when it ought to have been obvious that he would be the one to lead the confrontation; he would be the one to raise his gun and send forward the bullet that (he could only hope) would end Carina's life. He was fond of Eris, finding her company appealing and her ability to solidify his position as King of his land (and the expansion of it through the invasions of others) incredibly desirous, but he had brought her into his kingdom. He was the one with the agency, with the authority, because he was King.

He knew of the personal bitterness between the two women and the desire Eris no doubt felt to enjoy her moment in the spotlight against someone she clearly despised, but the domination of that spotlight made his lip curl in disgust, his foot tapping impatiently at his side as the scene began to unfold before his eyes without any chance of his input. This was supposed to be his moment, with Eris merely at his side for support. Instead, he felt like a fool standing in the background of her show, as though she was the ruler of the kingdom; the one who would benefit most from its victory against their enemies.

His frustration did blind him to preparing himself for just how quickly things erupted into violence. He knew Eris was likely to pull the trigger without fair warning (as her warning shot proved) but he hadn't quite anticipated the ferocity behind the action, unable to brace himself for the explosion of noise that momentarily deafened him in his proximity to the weapon - though the temporariness of that muffled hearing didn't distract from the sight of Carina's ice splintering from her body, shooting jagged icicles in his and Eris' direction.

Instinctively, the King raised his arms to protect his head, his body flung to the side to avoid, to the best of his ability, the expulsion of sharpened shards that would icily slice into his skin without mercy. As firm as his word to Eris had been regarding her future status as his Queen, Phillippe would be lying if he said the woman meant anything to him. The marriage would have been one of convenience and little more, based solely on the benefits they could provide one another and a mutual desire for the consolidation of their own power and privilege. When push came to shove, Phillippe would throw her aside without remorse-- as he literally chose to physicalise in that moment to protect himself from the shards heading mercilessly in their direction.

When no explosion of pain erupted in his body, when he felt no slick trail of blood pouring from any open wounds, Phillippe dared to lift his head to observe the scene around him. His eyes landed first on Eris and the injuries she had sustained, the sight of crimson pouring out and staining her dress making him grimace-- though only because he knew how much the dress had cost him and to see it stained beyond all repair was infuriating. The prospect of the woman dying before their plans could come to fruition, before they could really make their mark on the world, was regretful - but he would rather see her perish than suffer that fate himself. He knew she wouldn't shed any tears over him so why even try and muster up a little grief when he didn't care enough about her in the first place for her death to impact him in that way?

And so, no effort was made on Phillippe's part to help the woman. Instead, he pushed himself to his feet with a faint huff at the aches and pains that his body had suffered from diving away from harm, though those inevitable bruises disappeared to the back of his mind at the sight of Carina. His hearing returning, the sound of her rasped, accelerated breathing cut through the pitch of her child's cries, and for a long moment, all Phillippe could do was drink in the fall from strength and the vulnerability on display.

This was his moment in the spotlight; his time to shine, and he wasn't going to waste a second of it.

"...It didn't have to be like this, you know," he began smoothly as he made the distance to her fallen position, bending down to close the space. His head tilted as he examined the blood seeping from the gunshot wound, his lips pouted as though sympathetic - though that expression was purposefully taunting in its presence. To make that clear, his hand moved to her throat, not yet applying pressure but the threat of doing so was thick in the air, his smirk rising in acknowledgement of it.

"This war, I mean," he continued with the briefest of glances to the window. "The devastation on both sides, the death, the violence. All avoidable. I rather liked the both of you before our disagreements. I saw our kingdoms as allies against the mediocrity we're neighboured to. But you both let me down, didn't you? You both disappointed me with your lack of ambition, your... desire to settle for imperfection, for amateurishness--" the sound of approaching footsteps, hurried and frantic, caused him to lose momentum in his speech, a reluctant sigh escaping him as he realised he wouldn't have the time to follow through on his plans to rid himself of the trouble Carina posed to him. "Ah. I think we're being interrupted, my dear. Shame, really. But your husband really does have the remarkable talent to make a nuisance of himself-- Sven, nice of you to eventually join us- put the sword down, don't make a fool of yourself."

"What have you done to her? Is-- Is she-- get the fuck away from her," hissed Sven as he disobediently clutched his weapon tighter. He was tempted to do away with it altogether and expel a rush of flames, but the consequences of doing so, of hurting the ones he loved in the aftermath, was unthinkable. Lorcan might find himself invulnerable to the flames if he possessed his father's abilities, but Carina wasn't, the accidental infliction during a moment of drunken desperation plaguing him on a daily basis. And like hell would he risk laying a similar injury upon her again; not now, not ever.

Waiting for Phillippe to stand and move aside, Sven didn't have the time to engage in a battle with the other; to incapacitate him and claim victory, not when Carina was down and injured. He dashed to her side without hesitation, kneeling at her side and examining the extent of the damage as best he could.

"You're going to be okay; it's going to be okay," he hushed soothingly as he lifted his eyes to check on his son, relief flooding him at Lorcan's uninjured state. The sound of encroaching footsteps belonging to several Ignisian knights was another heavy dose of relief, though he had no motivation to smile in satisfaction at Phillippe's sudden panic, at his doomed attempt to run from the room to make his escape, when Carina was losing consciousness before his eyes. He chose to focus entirely on her as the soldiers entered, his only desire being to comfort her up until she was safe in the arms of the Ignisians, upon which he eagerly scooped Lorcan up into his arms and held him securely against his chest, showering the boy with relief and affection and love as he trailed from the room, not caring to even glance back at the body of Eris left behind in their wake.
 
"Lorcan-- Lorcan--" Carina rasped, eyes wide and panicked as she reached out to grab Sven's forearm once he was beside her. For a moment, all hurt and anger and disgust was forgotten about. All that it was was a mother desperately searching for confirmation from the father of her child that said child was safe and alive. "He-- I tried--" Her arm shook with the exertion of holding onto Sven, the young queen barely recognising that she was staining his own armour with her blood.

Once it was established in her own agitated mind that Lorcan was fine, otherwise he would have been Sven's main concern, Carina's hand relaxed and slipped from Sven's arm. The adrenaline that had been keeping her conscious long enough to see Lorcan safe was beginning to wear off and the young queen could feel a heaviness set itself within her body. A numbness joined it, allowing her a respite from the pain that throbbed and shot fire through her nerves whenever she was jostled. Or when someone applied pressure to her wound.

Lorcan's name fell from her lips once more in a soft whisper before Carina finally passed out on the stretcher that had been called for her. The final sight for the young queen being Sven gently cradling Lorcan in his arms, murmuring and cooing to him as they left the room together.



When Carina came around again, it would be six days later.

Groggy and disorientated, she blinked her eyes open only to wince at the light that greeted her. A soft hiss followed next as a slight fidget of the hips reminded her of the wound she had earned herself almost a week ago.

"Get the King. And Natalia. Let them know the Queen is awake."

Carina turned her head to follow the voice, brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of what was going on. At the sight of the doctor, she tried to sit up, only to be gently pushed back down by a nurse the immediately rushed to her from the other side as another hurried from the room.

"Lorcan. The Prince. The war--" She began, voice cracking from the lack of hydration.

"All is well, Your Majesty. Please, try to rest." The doctor began, approaching her and tenderly taking hold of her wrist to begin checking her pulse.

The blonde's brow furrowed deeper as she looked up at him, head falling back against her pillow, "How long have I been here, Dr Orlo?"

The man released her wrist and reached for her chin, tilting it slightly to check her pupils, "Six days, Your Majesty. Almost a full week. The war has ended-- Ignis was victorious."
 
Returning home to Ignis as the victor ought to have been a jubilant affair. With the threat Eris and Phillippe posed now quashed by their death and imprisonment to the dungeons respectively, Sven had dreamt of his return to his homeland being one of celebration, with the crowd cheering his name and welcoming their soldiers back by showering them in glory and triumphant.

That wasn't of much importance when placed in comparison to the bulk of the army returning home alive, able to return to their families and loved ones, but Sven would be lying if he said that that was all he could think about. Was it nice to return to Ignis' lands with the majority of his army able to head back to the open arms of their waiting families? Of course--

But it was even nicer doing so to the sound of celebratory cheering; to the sight of a crowd eagerly expecting the return of their King, glorious in his victory.

That didn't unfold the way he had always envisioned. Rather than the jubilant crowd, the faces he met as he ventured past the awaiting capital villagers were stark in their grief from the ones that returned lifeless (or remained unrecoverable and never returned home at all) and frowns weighing heavily from the sight of their Queen, unconscious and injured.

The days that followed did little to relieve the King's poor mood. Carina's health and her well-being was easily his top priority, the circumstance that caused him the most grief and concern, but he often found himself struck by the horror that he was almost angry at the attention she was receiving in her injured state. His feelings were alike those in the kingdom: worried for the Queen and, simultaneously, marvelling in admiration at her bravery and duty to her adopted country - but the longer the waves of sympathy and awe rolled by, the more miserable Sven became as a result. He wasn't able to delude himself into believing that his people regarded him with the same respect that they were showering Carina in because not once had he received a slither of it.

No, he was the King that had returned home with barely a scratch while his Queen had stormed into battle for Ignis and bore a life-threatening wound to show for it; he was the man who had arrived late onto the main scene of conflict while his wife had been amidst the action, alone and without support as she fought valiantly for her son and for the kingdom.

He was the duplicitous cheat; his wife the wronged woman.

It didn't seem fair that judgement and criticism laid at his door when he had done all he could for Ignis too, when he had fought just as bravely and just as strongly for victory, for Lorcan, as Carina had - yet she was the one seen in this new light of respect, the one who his people were gathering outside the castle with candles and prayers each night for their now treasured Queen, especially with news of his affair having run rampant through the kingdom in his absence from it.

And it all made him sick - not necessarily in the bitter, hateful manner, but with genuine nausea. His anxiety, when it wasn't spiralling in fear that Carina would succumb to her injuries, was heightening whenever he peered out the window to witness the well-wishers chanting good-naturedly for Carina and her good health - because he highly doubted he would be receiving that same level of public support and emotional outpouring were he the one to have returned injured. The respect he had garnered since coming to the throne had hit a new low, being almost non-existent now the wave of public opinion was so firmly against him; when he was regarded as untrustworthy, with scandal staining his character to such an extent that he couldn't help but feel like those in Ignis, the land he loved and fought for so passionately, seemed to actively dislike him.

Thus, Sven had more or less locked himself away in his office for the duration of the days that passed, only leaving when he sought out time with his son. He didn't want to head out to a kingdom that were gradually growing to favour his wife over him, and even within his own home, there was no respite from such judgement; not when he felt the hard stare of his servants and heard them erupt into hushed whispers whenever he turned a corner and they felt (wrongly) that he was out of earshot. So in his office he remained, leaving at the very end of the night where he would return to his room, though not before checking in on Carina and willing, hoping, that she awoke from her unconsciousness.

He was in his office (predictably) when word arrived that she had finally done so, immediately choosing to abandon any pretence he had made of getting some work done (just to delude himself into thinking he was being productive) and heading up to his wife's bedside. It wasn't easy seeing her unconscious for those few days, with memories of her breathless and bleeding in his arms continuing to plague him whenever he checked in on her, but seeing her awake and responsive did little to put him at ease either. He was overjoyed to see her eyes open and communicating with the doctor - but that also meant a return to the bitterness and hatred she held for him, and an acceptance of the consequences that would finally land at his door now the war had concluded and wasn't a distraction to them any more.

"...I heard you were awake, it's-- it's good. I was-- you know, obviously, I was worried that you wouldn't wake for a while longer," he eventually began as he hesitated awkwardly on the periphery of the room, too cautious to encroach on her space and venture further the bedside. Instead, he remained where he was, hands wringing together in his own discomfort.

A distraction arrived in the form of Natalia, the advisor having the presence of mind to bring Lorcan along. Having seen little to nothing of Sven in the proceeding days, the sight of him caused her eyes to widen a tad-- if only because he looked dreadful, his eyes sunken and framed by the darkest of circles; his clothes hanging looser on his frame from the meals he had undoubtedly chosen to skip in favour of a growing reliance on his favourite cigarettes. Yet, now was no time to berate him for his continued poor choices, Natalia preferring instead to focus primarily on the Queen as she ventured forward, adjusting Lorcan in her arms.

"He's missed you dreadfully, Carina. Poor thing's been grizzling and whining for you for days now," she whispered with an encouraging smile to the young Prince, a hand coming to gently smooth back a few stray locks of flame-red hair from his face. "...Are you okay to hold him or-- is the pain too much right now? I don't want you pushing yourself too far, Carina. You... almost--" she paused, unwilling to even say 'died' when Lorcan was so close, even if he wouldn't understand the enormity of such a word. "I'd just prefer you to take your time in your recovery is all. You've proven to us all of your strength and dedication; there's no shame in taking things at a slow pace as your body heals."
 
Sven's appearance was equally as disturbing to Carina as it was to Natalia. While she may never forgive him for what he had done, the promises he had broken and the manipulation he had attempted to pull off afterwards, there was still that tiny part of her (now buried deep, deep down) that still loved him. It was because of that side of her that made the betrayal so much harder to deal with each time she saw him. She knew she would never act on that part again, would never forgive him to allow him to see that side of her again, but that didn't make seeing him in the state he was in any easier.

She remained silent as she stared at him, eyes remaining on his face and his body, observing the mess that he had become in the few days alone (obviously unknown to her) and was only moved by Natalia's entrance. Her attention immediately turned to the advisor and the child she carried in her arms, the young queen's expression lightening up at the sight of her son. She hastily sat up, only to hiss sharply at a pain in her side.

"Please-- no sudden movements, Your Majesty. You have stitches in your stomach... and also the outer side of your thigh. You must be careful." The doctor informed her, a hand pressing against her shoulder to keep her against the bed.

Her lips opened to argue and utter a cutting retort, however, she also knew that anything she said would be countered by Natalia (and maybe even Sven) and thus she closed her mouth, nose wrinkling in her irritation instead and accepting his words with a short nod. She glanced back to Natalia and reached her hands out towards the advisor, "I've had six days of recovery. Right now I just want my son."

Her voice, despite the prospect of not being given Lorcan at all, was soft if somewhat croaky and weak from the lack of hydration. She motioned with her hands for Natalia to bring Lorcan to her, impatient to have her son back in her arms.

"...What happened?" She then dared to ask, once the child was settled against her and she had taken a deep breath in of his scent which calmed and reassured her. Carina leaned back, keeping Lorcan close to her chest with one arm and having her other hand free as he grabbed at her hair and chest and fingers, "Phillippe and... that woman?"

She couldn't bring herself to say Eris' name any longer, even 'that woman' tasted sour on her tongue.

"I remember... the gunshot, moving in front of Lorcan and where he was in the crib... Ignisian colours... being carried out..." Her brow furrowed as she struggled to remember, "What happened to those two?"
 
Despite it falling under Natalia's job description to inform her Queen of the events that had played out during her days of unconsciousness, the adviser sent a glance in Sven's direction in the hope he would lead the discussion. Having witnessed him withdrawing within himself and shirking his duties in favour of the seclusion of his office, now was a golden opportunity to ease him back into the responsibilities he, as King, held; to take the conversation by the reins and part with the knowledge, with the decisions he had made, with confidence.

But that didn't occur. Rather than accept the bone Natalia was throwing to him, Sven's eyes darted to the side to avoid making any contact with his adviser, his finger raised to his lips as he anxiously bit and tore at both his nail and the skin around it. His physical state was fidgety and unsettled, his foot tapping against the plush carpet and the hand at his side curled into a fist to fight off the restlessness of his finger, each of the mannerisms arriving as a result of his need for a cigarette; for the coping mechanisms he had grown to rely upon in a few mere days since the war's conclusion.

Besides, he hadn't even been the one to propose any decisions on how to proceed forward in the first place. He hadn't been the forceful presence making those authoritative choices - he had meekly shrugged his acceptance of the proposals brought to his office, too eager to remove people from his office, out of his space, to really think too deeply about what information they brought to his door.

To lay claim to the decisions when he hadn't been a part of their process wasn't something Sven usually cared about, lacking the ability to care about taking credit for others' hard work, so his reluctance to do so now wasn't morally motivated. No, his silence and withdrawn energy was through a lack of being able to focus himself in the moment, the anxiety only increasing the longer he was stood before Carina, having to accept all of the regret, guilt and desperation that flooded forth as a result.

"...The woman is dead. We think that she was killed from the impact of your ice, she seemed to bear the injuries associated with such an expulsion," began Natalia, withholding her urge to snap at Sven to pull himself together. It wasn't beneficial to resort to that energy for anyone: not for Carina who had just awoken after a full week of unconsciousness and not for Lorcan who had already been through too much at his young age. As such, she inhaled a breath through gritted teeth and forced herself to continue without her anger (and genuine concern) towards the King infecting her tone.

"As for Phillippe, he's incarcerated in the dungeons awaiting public execution. It was decided that a sentencing at the gallows would be appropriate but we all felt it best to await your final say on the matter. If you decide another method of execution, if you prefer he suffer in the dungeons until a natural death arises, so be it. Besides, it was also considered that you might wish to see him hang too so we... held back until you awoke," she continued with a faint smile, her hands coming together in front of her. The thought of the West Torterrian King residing in the dungeons was one that brought her some delight when he was stripped of all pomp and luxury, but it also unnerved her to have to share the castle with a man capable of such heinous acts.

Though she also knew that unease to be ridiculous when she shared a castle with Sven, whose manipulation and cruelty often knew no bounds.

"You don't have to make decisions on Phillippe yet, let him rot in the dungeons until you're ready. Your recovery is more important, Carina. So please, don't... rush back into work. The Ignisian public understands; their support has been fierce over the last week. I imagine there'll be cause for celebration once they learn you've awakened. You've... garnered their admiration and respect; the tide of public opinion has... turned, quite a bit." Natalia concluded, her voice tightening at the words when she knew the discomfort it would bring to Sven - but Carina had the right to know what was going on; how the public were, in majority, on her side, vocalising and physicalising their support of a Queen who had thrown herself into battle for them.

"But really, rest for now. Everything else beyond your recovery can wait."
 
His fidgeting made it difficult, but Carina did her best to ignore her husband as he remained on the fringes of the conversation. She continued to lack any previous desire for his opinion on certain matters, whether it be that she should be holding Lorcan or discussing Phillippe's execution or Eris' death. She may be hurting at the sight of his obvious lack of care for himself, but she found it better to ignore him. The last thing she wanted was to be pulled into a conversation with him: he had proven himself untrustworthy now after his attempts to manipulate her into feeling responsible for his adultery.

"I hope it was a slow death for her." Carina looked down at Lorcan at her statement regarding Eris' demise, cold towards any idea regarding the reaction it would evoke from Sven. She doubted she would ever confess it out loud, but she would always consider the events of the week before to have been his fault.

If he had acted on his promise, cast Eris out of their lives, she would not need to be aloof and detached from him. If he hadn't been with Eris, plenty of their soldiers would still be alive. If he had remained faithful, he wouldn't have confronted Eris and, in turn, seen their son kidnapped as a result.

"As for Phillippe, we cannot risk him having some underground followers that may attempt to break him out and see an uprising form in years to come," she shifted, unable to fully smother her wince as she rearranged Lorcan so the child rested against her chest. Her fingers gently stroked his back, the baby cooing as a result. Carina's eyes lifted back to Natalia, "Phillippe must die. I don't care how or where or when. Throw him into one of the volcanoes, for all I care. Something that he cannot come back from. But he must die."

She had made a very strong statement from the start regarding those that attempted to harm Lorcan. Even when he was unborn, barely a few months into his conception, Carina had executed those five men with her ice. At the time, it was a statement of strength for her. But now, looking back on it, she realised she was driven to ensure those men never harmed her child again. And that everyone who watched would know to never come after the heir of Ignis and Eira.

The confession regarding her popularity was a surprising one and something Carina clearly didn't expect as she blinked at the advisor. She had always expected to have a difficult relationship with the people of Ignis given who she was and the history between their two kingdoms. But to hear from Natalia the response she had received....

However, her eyes then flickered across to Sven as Natalia spoke of not rushing back too soon. One look at her husband told her everything she needed to know. She could only imagine the state of disarray Sven's office was in at the moment and that was without the usual business of running their kingdoms. It was on the tip of her tongue, to say that it was clear there was a rush. She trusted Natalia to have kept things ticking over, but if Sven was needed to sign things off and the like... she could imagine that wasn't easy for the advisor.

"...Give me today. Give me today to clean up, get some food and spend time with Lorcan. To find out from the doctor here what I need to do over the next few weeks... then tomorrow I will take a look at everything that needs... overseeing."
 
He might not have made any effort to reach such a decision himself (not purposefully; he genuinely lacked the ability to focus on the task) but hearing Carina declare the fate of Phillippe so confidently, as though her word on the matter was final, resulted in Sven's head snapping up and his attention narrowing in on the moment. He had been otherwise engaged with trying to smother and quash his anxious fidgeting, barely focused in the conversation, though the words spoken, however muffled and distant, still registered; still caused a flare of disgust and anger to bloom within his chest.

Because he still had a voice as King; he still had the right to offer up his opinion and make judgements. He wouldn't dream of doing so with any sort of finality when Carina had as much of a right to provide an opinion and have her side taken into account as he did, more so now, after her sacrifices, than ever before. He might be displeased at the growing popularity she now possessed but he wasn't childish enough to try and discredit her right to rule-- if anything, he wanted her to feel that importance; to lean into ruling Ignis with that power on display.

The more she did, the less likely she was to divorce him and flee Ignis for her homeland. It was a faint hope but Sven had to cling to it, the thought of remaining married to Carina and have their relationship gradually repair itself over time being the only thing that really kept him going at this point. Did he realise that it was a recipe for future heartbreak? Deep down, of course he did - he wasn't naive enough to truly believe that his marriage was ever going to be repaired and reinstated... but deluding himself with the hope of it was keeping him together.

And, fearful of what would happen if he genuinely convinced himself to abandon the hope, he just had to cling to it.

With that in mind, he knew he ought to bite his lip and keep his irritation to himself - but the more he dwelt on Carina's decree, the more the stokes of his anger burned within him, and withholding it gradually became too difficult to maintain.

"...I think I have a right to an opinion on the subject of Phillippe. I don't necessarily think he should be killed immediately. Perhaps he deserves to suffer the indignity of the dungeons. Perhaps I'd like to see him tortured like the scum he is before he receives the blessing of death. I don't... I appreciate you and... a-and I'm grateful for you, but your word is not final, Carina. I'm still King. Your f-f-- fucking popularity doesn't change that fact," he eventually muttered, the initial calmness and maturity of the first part of the speech breaking apart by the time he concluded it, his stammer rising as the heat of his anger seeped through. It wasn't necessarily an anger directed at Carina but mostly fuelled by the situation he had found himself in - witnessing his kingdom lose faith in him and turn instead to Carina for guidance and support.

He turned to glance out of the window to avoid eye contact with his wife, a thumb raised to his lips as he bit anxiously at the nail once again, the pang of pain and faint taste of something metallic hitting his tongue being the only thing that tore him from the act. He surveyed the blood silently, preferring to lose himself in the analysis than return to the focus of the conversation-- and the atmosphere he had created through the minor loss of control.

"I... know Phillippe is eager to speak to you or Sven, but I recommend we leave him to stew alone in the dungeons until... a decision on his fate has been reached," murmured Natalia as she returned her eyes to Carina, the concern for Sven's state written across her face until she caught herself and forced it aside as quickly as she could. She coughed into her fist to provide herself a moment of composure, eventually forcing a gentle smile onto her face-- one that grew natural as she took in Lorcan's comfort and contentedness.

"I won't lie to you, Carina. We need you more than ever, I can't... do everything myself," she whispered beneath her breath, a glance cast nervously at Sven until she was convinced that he was oblivious to the whispered remark. "But don't rush back. Tomorrow seems too soon after all you've gone through. I'm not... telling you what to do, I'm just... advising you to reconsider; to take a week off as a minimum before returning to affairs of the state."
 
Carina's eyes had locked onto Sven the moment he began to argue about what to do with Phillippe. They remained on him even as Natalia stepped forward to whisper to her about her husband (even if she no longer wished to have him hold that title) and his recent behaviours and his apparent lack of action. If the advisor's words were anything to go by.

She couldn't be sure of the full extent of Sven's neglect towards the kingdom and his responsibilities, but given her low opinion of him, she wasn't prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt any longer.

"You expect me to not rush back after what you've just said? After seeing how he looks?" She finally whispered back, turning her head to look at Natalia. The coolness to her voice and the tightened jaw may have suggested a coldness that would once again return after the betrayal she had experienced, but the glimmer of concern and alarm would only help counteract it all. "I will take today, perhaps the morning of tomorrow. I expect an office of my own established by the time lunch is over."

Her head then turned back to face Sven, who continued to show her his back. It only served to infuriate her, demonstrated perhaps only to Natalia through the shaking of her hand as she raised it to place it over Lorcan's back. Her thumb brushed over the infant's back and Carina took a moment to allow it to calm her, the sweet powdery scent of her child helping her control her temper as she would refuse to ever shout or use harsh tones in front of him.

"Yet your word was final on the war that caused all of this." She tilted her head as she observed Sven, eyes flickering over his body while his back was still turned to her before moving up to his head so their eyes would meet once he decided to face her again. "Of course you are entitled to an opinion. However, what makes you think I care about your opinion after everything, Sven, hm? Clearly you had no care for mine, or my emotions, over the last few months. So if you think that, on this occasion, I am going to give a single care as to what your opinion is regarding a man who you willingly went into battle with after ignoring my warnings... well, I would only suggest being checked by the doctor here too."

Her gaze darted to the smartly dressed man in question, who froze like a rabbit in headlights and glanced between the monarchs, only to hastily turn back around and continue to check Carina's charts.

Carina glanced back to Sven, fingers gently rubbing against Lorcan's back as she held his gaze, "And don't insult me by arguing that you did care. Because if you did, we wouldn't be here now."

As Lorcan squirmed against her chest, the young queen looked down to him to ensure he was alright. She adjusted him slightly, allowing him to lay in her arms with his head opposite the side of her wound, where she was weaker, "Oh, and refrain from swearing in our child's presence please. If I can avoid screaming at you, then you can avoid profanity."
 
The response encouraged a bitter laugh to suddenly explode from Sven's lips, the harshness of the emitted sound being the first sign of the growing rage within him - if his previous, swear-laced outburst hadn't indicated it first, at least. He hadn't entered Carina's bedroom with the intention of beginning an argument with her, and he certainly didn't contemplate the possibility of being overtaken by a swell of anger when he wanted to sincerely prioritise her well-being, but that wasn't feasible when the coldness of her words -and the audacity he felt surrounded them- immediately pricked at his limited patience.

A nerve in his jaw twitched as ground his teeth together. Regardless of the unsubtlety of his anger, he still made the effort to restrain himself, both out of love for her and their son. He didn't want to be full of the intense rage and righteous fury; he wanted to take Carina's hand in his own, to soothe her of her physical and mental aches and pains. That might not be possible given the animosity from her towards him but he loved her deeply, enough to want to check in on her in spite of the risk of this atmosphere being created.

And yet, despite his best efforts to fight off the urge to fall into old habits, that atmosphere struck sharply into existence when he shot her a look fuelled entirely by his rage. He would never hate her (though he couldn't claim to like her at the current moment with her remarks and the weight of her growing popularity) but he wasn't capable of brushing aside the anger, the disgust, that had started to swell and grow. It wasn't a feeling he had felt towards her in a long time, certainly not to such an extent, but he was a man who felt like he was being pushed to the edge; a man who felt like everything he had fought for was slowly slipping through his fingers.

A man who felt like he was that child to his parents again, forced to the background, to the shadows, as they took the spotlight. That was who he felt like again to Carina's growing respect and admiration; the forgotten child whose efforts were overlooked, whose potential was consistently underestimated.

As deep as his love for his wife was, there was little chance in him being able to waive aside his negative feelings when they encompassed an entire life's worth of emotion.

"...You don't get to have the final say on the matter. You don't get to stroll in and take over the powers that are mine by birth right. I'll take your opinion into account, I'll happily listen to your side and allow my own opinions to be adjusted as a result, but the final say on Phillippe will be mine and mine alone," he began sharply, more than aware of the eyes now drifting cautiously to him in response to his tone but restraining himself, forcing that wave of anger aside, wasn't something he had the strength to do. He knew the content of his words were harsh, especially when they leant into the inherent narcissism that Sven had fought hard to overcome in his promise to Carina to be a better man - but if their marriage was all but dead, if their romance was over, why uphold that fight a second longer when it killed him to deny that that was who he was?

"We aren't going to rule side by side as equal powers, I'm under no illusion that you want nothing to do with me-- but that also means relinquishing your right to rule as my equal, Carina. Because you married into this kingdom; I was born into it. There's a difference," he continued as he approached the end of the bed, resting his hands on the bedframe before his hands tightened against the wood, his knuckles growing white from the strength exhibited during the effort.

"You wish to rule Ignis? By all means, do so. If our marriage is in name only, I welcome it for the sake of our son and our people-- but you will not sit in on meetings and speak up with the justification of being an equal power in this union. That, my darling, was a privilege I granted you-- and I'm happy to tear it away. You can have your office, you can sit at a desk - but you will not make decisions without my say on the matter; without my final ruling. Because we are no longer equals. You cannot have your cake, my love, and eat it too. That isn't how it works here."

"Sven," interrupted Natalia as cautiously as she allowed herself to sound, more wary of her friend than she was comfortable being. "All this bravado isn't helpful. Carina is quite capable of--"

"Shut it, I'm done with your incessant interruptions, Natalia. You've made your allegiance to my wife very obvious. Don't think I've not spotted you both giggling and muttering together conspiratorially like a gaggle of... of witches. I've seen you both, that friendship blossoming while I've been left to the wayside. So don't be offended if I don't care what you have to say, my dear friend." Sven retorted as he finally removed his hands from the frame of the bed, a quick glance sent downwards at the wood to ensure it hadn't singed or began to burn under the heat of his grasp. Fortunately, no such incident came to fruition, a sigh of immense relief escaping him at the knowledge that, somehow, those powers had been successfully held at bay.

"Unless you have something childish to spit at me, I think it's best I go-- but Lorcan will be brought to me in an hour for a stroll in the garden so enjoy our son's company until then, Carina. Your current incapacitation isn't going to disrupt my time with my son."
 
"You're right."

Carina lifted her chin defiantly at his words, hand resting flat over Lorcan's back and eyes steely as she allowed her words to fade within the silence that followed. She was prepared for shock and surprise at her agreement. She wanted that to be the emotion that overcame all in the room that were listening in to Sven's rant. However, she was not agreeing entirely to what they probably thought she was.

"I have no right to Ignis. I married into it. You were born." Her tone was nonchalant, uncaring, even bored at the facts that she was stating. However, her expression hardened after another moment of silence and a condescending smile graced her lips, "But remember that goes both ways, darling. Eira is mine. Those people will never love you. They will never fight for you. I am their Queen in every sense that you are Ignis' King. Yes, maybe you have some claim because they have been conquered and we are married. But remember, you never conquered them. Your father did." She allowed the statement to hang in the air, eyes remaining focused on his. There was a lack of remorse in her words, the desire to keep him from hurting after everything he had done, said and continued to say fading with every word he spat back at her.

"At least for the people of Ignis, a kingdom I owe nothing to, I gave everything. What have you done for the people of Eira, Sven, hm? Burned down houses and spilt blood. Given them a war that should never have been their fight to begin with. Betrayed their one true queen."

Having leant forward during her retort, Lorcan delicately clutched to her chest, Carina rested back against the bed. She fought against the dizziness that overcame her, blinked past the dots that swam in her vision. All for the sake of remaining strong. Even though, deep down, she was exhausted to do so.

Yet she could still go further, push harder, say more hurtful things and allow him to grow in anger and answer with such emotion in retort.

...But she did not.

"When our divorce is finalised, and it will be finalised," she took in a deep breath, eyes closing briefly before opening as she continued, "Eira will be mine to do with what I see fit. Ignis will be yours. Only when Lorcan becomes of age will they form a united nation once again." Her eyes raised to meet his once again, "And if you talk to Natalia in such a way again... I will steal her away to live with me in Eira. Where she will get the respect she is due and can live the life she deserves. Not waiting on a boy-King who breaks his promises and throws tantrums whenever something goes against his desires."
 
"If you think Natalia will ever leave to Eira with you, you're far more deluded than I first thought. She may be your friend but her loyalty lies with me. You have nobody, Carina. Nobody will follow you to that pathetic kingdom you call your home. Because you're alone, as you've always been. You push people away, you hurt them, you ruin them. I... I loved you, more than anyone I have ever loved, and while the breakdown of the marriage is my fault, the blame lies with me, you are not innocent in it. You have ruined me like you have ruined every other slither of goodness that has entered your life because that's who you are. An inherently cold bitc--"

The word faltered at the tip of his tongue when his eyes landed on his young son. He was seemingly happy to ridicule and deride the boy's mother in front of him; of blurting out the cruellest of taunts he didn't necessarily even believe purely to spite her, but taking the step to swear at her, to snap that she was a 'bitch' was one he was incapable of making - and so he didn't, however awkward the end of his rant sounded as a result.

Though frankly, he wasn't sure the rant was uttered with the sort of cutting confidence he hoped to portray. Not only did his general fidgeting and unsubtle stammering disrupt the desired effect, so too did the lack of real passion behind it - because he didn't believe much of what he was saying. It was the signature slinging of insults designed to hurt, rather than said with any real, cruel forcefulness that signified that slither of belief in what was being uttered.

Because regardless of the viciousness he was spouting, Sven couldn't pretend that his feelings for the other had just disappeared overnight. As raw as his annoyance with her and her popularity was, as angered as he was by her statements and references to his father's grand achievements (ones he would never be able to claim as his own), his love remained intact, outweighing those negatives with ease. As such, even after the slew of unkind remarks, he faltered at the edge of the bed in reluctance to leave with such bitterness lingering between them. His eyes blinked hard to push back the tears that threatened to gloss them, his lip faintly quivering as the full weight of acknowledgement that what they had was over started to sink in.

He wanted to apologise, to take her hand and beg, plead, for her to reconsider her choices. Even if their marriage became a husk of what it once was, her remaining in Ignis would be something to find happiness in. The thought of losing her completely, seeing her only when Lorcan hit a certain milestone, tore him apart, and yet it was clearly the future he was destined for.

He couldn't see how he could salvage something that was so obviously in tatters.

"...I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I... the papers are signed, they're... in m-my office, I'm not.... if this is what you want, you can have it, Carina. I-I'm not standing in your way," he eventually managed to mumble, the difficulty of speaking above a whisper showing in the haunted, tight expression that painfully etched onto his features. He pushed his hair back from his forehead as he tried to regain some composure, his shoulders pushed back in that continued effort, however useless it was at this point.

"I... I will always love you. I know that isn't what you wish to hear, I know you may not believe me, but I do. I'm sorry I ruined us, Carina. I'm sorry I... I wasn't the King, the husband, the... the father you thought I would be--" He broke off once more, this time out of reluctance to have his emotion show itself too noticeably. With a forced nod out of formality than anything else, he coughed to dispel his awkwardness and turned to swiftly make his exit from the room.
 
At his confession of continued love, Carina's gaze lowered to Lorcan. It angered her to hear him say such words; for him to dare to make such claims when his actions had done nothing but contradict. However, it also pained her. It sent an ache through her that was so strong, it made her lose her breath. Just like him, her feelings could not go away overnight. She could despise him, be disgusted and refuse to care. But the desire, deep down, to continue loving him was there. She just knew that there was no way, in any situation, she would ever be able to forgive him.

She had gone to him, in the dead of night, vulnerable and alone to tell him all that she was feeling. She had poured her heart out to him, hoping they could be together again. She had been made to look a fool, as a wife and as a mother and also as a queen. She had taken him at his word. She had trusted him.

And he had destroyed it all over again. Not just with his betrayal, but with his attempts to manipulate her afterwards. Something she felt that was an unspoken promise between them that he would never try to do again.

Even now, he spoke of her being alone. Of being too cold to let anyone in or to care for anyone else. Carina knew she had confined in him about that fear and that she had openly confessed (one of which being the night they supposedly reconciled) that she knew she wasn't an emotional person and kept things to herself. And to hear him throw that back in her face, to blame her for supposedly ruining him and that she seemingly destroyed any good she had in her life...

It caused her breathing to become erratic, if only for a moment.

However, Carina refused to show the effect such words had on her. Her eyes, that had lowered to Lorcan as mentioned as Sven moved on to his proclamation of continued love, despite his previously harsh words the suggested otherwise, rose back up once she had controlled herself to watch him move towards the door.

"Sven," she called out softly, moving Lorcan carefully to her chest again once the babe had settled again. She didn't continue until he had halted his exit, even waiting in the silence until she could see at least some part of his face. "The night I came to you... asking for our second chance, getting everything off my chest in telling you how I truly felt... when I opened myself up to you emotionally, in ways you knew-- know are hard for me, literally having put myself at your mercy and judgement, and admitted all my flaws and asked for us to try again..." She trailed off, pausing as she mentally prepared herself, "That night, did you see her?"
 
Under the impression that all that had to be said had been said (and that Carina rightly wanted nothing more to do with him for the remainder of the day), Sven's walk to the door consisted of contemplations on how he would spend the rest of the day. Understandably, Lorcan was best left to spend time with his mother after almost losing her and, as tempted as he was to act on his desire to take his son out for a stroll in the gardens, he couldn't in good faith disrupt Carina's time with their child - not after all she had sacrificed to bring him home where he belonged.

No, it was for the best that he left them to it and returned to his office under the semblance of doing work, even if all he planned on really doing was having a cigarette (or several) and miserably drowning his sorrows in his wine until sleep overtook him. Often, he would choose to peer from the window at the kingdom below just to remind himself of the people within it, expecting him to uphold his duties as their King-- but the small enjoyment he had gathered from that activity ended when he was forced to witness the gatherings of his people in support of their Queen; the collective coming-together of a community in a newfound admiration for Carina.

He knew he ought to be proud of that turn in public opinion, be glad for his wife to have finally made that breakthrough-- but he couldn't, not when his jealousy and the bitterness of his resentment won out. So he couldn't even use the scene of Ignis beyond his window to distract himself these days, leaving the reality of smoking and drinking the rest of the hours of the day to be one he had to miserably resign himself to.

Not anticipating the other calling him back, especially without anger lacing her tone, Sven paused immediately in his step-- though was reluctant to turn to face her the instant the reasons for her halting his exit were revealed. He had, reluctantly, deduced that their marriage was moribund, if not already completely dead, though even if the slightest slither of hope for its recovery remained, Sven knew it would be extinguished if he responded truthfully to her enquiry.

So of course he wanted to lie to her, proclaim his innocence and cling to this moment, where Carina was regarding him without any of the stinging coldness he had come to despise from her (if only because of the hurt it caused him). Without Eris around to counter those lies, there was every chance he could get away with it and rescue something of his marriage-- or even just a friendship free of bitterness with the other. All it would take was manipulatively smiling, uttering smooth lies out through a false expression urging her of its trust--

But he couldn't. Those lies, that manipulation, had already played their part in ruining all he had held dear. If she saw through the lies and realised, once again, that he was manipulating her, there was no recovering from it; no chance of even co-parenting as friends which was something he had to hope would materialise in their future - assuming he didn't lie and didn't manipulate her further.

"...I think you already know the answer to that," he admitted solemnly as he eventually turned around to fully face her, deciding he at least owed her that, rather than the cowardly attempt to avoid witnessing the effect the truth would have on her. His hands clung together in front of him to prevent the fidgeting of his fingers in his sudden anxiousness, his brows knitting together as he contemplated how to approach the topic. It was undoubtedly harder on Carina but that didn't mean it was something he could reply with ease; not when the guilt of his actions that night had come to haunt him.

"We had our conversation, we... made promises to one another, and I had every intention of... of upholding them, Carina. I did. I left for my bedroom and Eris arrived, and-- I told her, I said what we had was over and that you and I were-- building something together. That you were the love of my life and I wanted a future with you," he began softly, dedicating his gaze to his wife both out of respect - and because looking elsewhere would remind him that they weren't alone and he didn't want to use the doctor nor Natalia as an excuse to shut his lips and grow silent.

His gaze did momentarily divert to his hands as the full weight of disgust at his actions that night settled in, the difficulty of what he had to say visibly hitting him. He shut his eyes for a few beats, focusing on controlling his breathing - and to build up his confidence to get out what needed to be said.

"...I-- can only blame myself, so there's no reason in telling you what was said to have my abandon our promises, Carina. I was stupid and weak and... I ruined everything. I lied and deceived a-and-- I could have turned her away, I could have saved what you and I had if I did that. But I didn't, I... I didn't. I didn't do that. I... I'm sorry, I-I'd take it all back if I could, but that-- i-it-- I saw her that night and nothing I can do or say will-- make up for that."
 
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