They were injecting something into her. He didn’t know what it was but it made her screams even louder. Through the metal bars, he could see her limbs fighting against their constraints. He wanted to set her free.

But instead he screamed. His voice was just as loud as he called her name. He swore at the guards and begged them to torture him instead. He begged them to have mercy on his love and let her go. Anymore and he would go mad. He begged them to have mercy on him.

Maybe this was their way of torturing him. It would have been a lot less painful if he were strapped to the wooden table instead of her. His heart wouldn’t be in this much agony if he was the one shackled and drugged.

He didn’t even have time to wonder what was in that needle. He couldn’t hear his own screams anymore; they were drowned out by her whimpering. Why was she whimpering. Why were her lips quivering. He followed her gaze and found one of the guards unbuckling his belt.

This couldn’t be happening.

Kris lunged at the door. He pried at the metal bars that kept him from his wife. His hands were already cut from yesterday’s whipping but he couldn’t feel any of it. All that he saw was the red of her scratches, the fresh ones made by today’s barbed whips, as another guard pulled off her cloak.

She gave up then, he knew. He didn’t know if it was willingly or forced but he knew. He watched as her eyes found his through the dark room, as if all she needed was his gaze to make her feel safe again.

How could she be so stupid. How could he be so weak.

He tried again. He tried everything again until the cuts in his hand were opening up into gashes and the bruises on his arms had multiplied. He put his forehead against the door, watching her pained face as she shook her head.

”It’s okay," she seemed to say. "Don’t hurt yourself for me.”

His eyes were blurry with tears. Why didn’t she fight them. Why did she just look at him, telling him it was all right when it obviously wasn’t. The more they touched her, the more it pained him. The less she struggled, the less he understood.

This was all his fault. He shouldn’t have let her stay by his side as the enemy had taken over their land. She should have been off in a boat, sailing to another country. A safer one. She should be there by now, enjoying her new life possibly with a new husband. A husband that could protect her from this.

But this was his punishment.

Her eyes wouldn’t pull away from his and he didn’t dare look away from her. There was still life in her, he knew it. He knew it even while he watched the guard snicker as he pulled the cloak around her body.

The shackles were coming off. She still wasn’t struggling.

Kris in a breath and gripped the metal bars until his knuckles had turned white. The guard slung her body over his shoulder and carried her toward Kris’s door.

The door opened. “If she’s not dead already, she’s got about five minutes. Enjoy her fine wine while you can," the guard spat as he tossed her wrapped body into the room.

Kris caught her easily for she was malnourished and terribly thin. He immediately pulled off the disgusting brown cloak and carried her to the jug of water in the cell.

There wasn’t much left but he couldn’t let her die like this. He watched her face as he ladled the water over her cuts. First on the chest, then on the stomach, then on the thighs. It wasn’t until he reached her arms did she let out a whimper.

Kris put down the ladle and gently brushed the stray strands of hair off her face. Her eyes were closed but he knew she was alive.

He kissed her softly and slowly, giving the same little pecks that she used to use to wake him up in the mornings. He scolded himself for not waking up earlier on those days. He longed for the extra minutes with her, even the seconds.

"Kris?" Her small voice seemed to echo in the prison cell and Kris kept himself together by holding her tighter. “Ah, it hurts…"

"No more pain for you, brave darling," he said shakily. “You’re going to a safer place."

Her cold fingers reached up to touch his cheek. “But I…I want to stay here with you." It seemed laborious even for her to breathe and she spoke in raspy chunks of sentences.

Kris shook his head as he bent down to kiss her temple. His lips lingered there as he spoke. “You go ahead, darling. I’ll stay back and make sure these monsters don’t find you ever again."

"Will I see you soon?"

Kris didn’t know how to answer so he pulled her even closer. He felt closer to death than she looked. He wished he really was. “Perhaps," he whispered. “Once I make sure they go to hell, I might be going there myself. I’ll guard the doors for the devil so they’ll never come out, I promise."

"They won’t let you stay in hell, Kris. You are too kind," she said and gave a breathless laugh. It would’ve warmed his heart if he didn’t know that this might be the last laugh she would ever let out. The thought pained him and he tried to remember it again. He snatched at all the memories of her laughter and the ease she had at finding any dire situation funny. Even this one.

Kris shook his head again, nuzzling his nose against her sallow cheeks. “They’ll let me into hell for the things I want to do to those men."

"Don’t hurt yourself, not for revenge. I want to see you again in heaven and I want to meet you again in the next life." She gave a little moan and closed her eyes. “I love you, Kris. I’ll always love my king. Don’t forget that."

"You are my queen," he said with fresh tears in his eyes, “and I’ll be the king that loves you and the knight that protects you."

A small smile appeared on her lips as her head lolled to the side and rested in the crook of his arm.

He sent her off with a kiss. “Sweet dreams, my darling queen."

—-

breathe in breathe out NO *tUGS OUT ALL MY HAIR AS I SOB* YOU MADE ME TORTURE MY PRINCE. I’M GONNA GO INTO A CORNER AND CRY SOME MORE BLOOD. I DON’T KNOW HOW TO FUNCTION ANYMORE. HOW COULD YOU REQUEST SOMETHING LIKE THIS. SOMETHING THAT RESEMBLES ALL THE HISTORICAL ROMANCES I READ. HOW COULD YOU YOU SOULLESS BEING. DO YOU LIVE TO WATCH ME SUFFER AND DROWN IN MY TEARS