Wed to the War King
CHAPTER 5: The Fractured Crown
Queen Aria's POV
The riots began at dawn.
I stood on the palace balcony, watching my capital burn—not
from enemy invasion, but from within. The people I'd sworn to protect now tore
through the streets, their shouts rising like smoke into the winter air.
"Death to the Vareen alliance!"
"Our queen beds the enemy!"
My fingers turned bloodless against the railing. Three days.
Three days since Kael had left to quell unrest in his own kingdom, and already
my council whispered of civil war.
"Your Majesty." Lord Torin appeared at my
shoulder, his usually impeccable robes stained with soot. "The eastern
provinces have declared for your cousin. The northern lords refuse to send
troops. If we don't act—"
"I know." The words tasted like ash.
I turned from the carnage, my crown suddenly too heavy.
"Prepare my horse. I'll ride out to the villages myself."
The People's Queen
The countryside was worse.
At Silverbrook, farmers hurled rotten fruit at my retinue.
"We won't starve for your Vareen lover!" an old woman spat.
In the mining towns, children sang vulgar rhymes about
"the frost king's whore."
But it was at the border village of Greyford that I truly
understood the depth of the betrayal. A painted banner hung across the tavern
door: "True Ravensburn Blood—No Vareen Bastards!"
My hands shook as I dismounted. These were my people—the
ones who'd cheered my coronation, who'd sent their sons to fight under my
banners. Now they looked at me like a stranger.
A tavern girl slipped me a note with my ale.
"Ask your king about Lady Yvaine's white roses. -A
Friend"
The tankard shattered against the wall.
Meanwhile in Vareen
(Kael's POV)
The northern lords greeted me with drawn swords.
"Your queen," Lord Dainthar sneered,
"entertained Prince Eliam for three hours yesterday. My scouts say her
bedchamber curtains were still drawn at noon."
I kept my face stone, even as my pulse roared. "Show me
proof."
The letter he produced smelled of Aria's favorite citrus
ink—the private blend she used for state documents. The handwriting was nearly
perfect. Nearly.
"My dearest Eliam—
Your visit warmed me more than my husband ever could..."
I threw it into the fire. "This changes nothing."
But in the privacy of my tent, I stared at the map between
us—our carefully drawn union now fractured by doubt.
The Poison Takes Root
For weeks, we worked separately to quell the unrest:
- I rode
through villages, my voice growing hoarse from explaining, my hands raw
from rebuilding burned homes
- Kael dueled
rebellious lords, his knuckles permanently split from beating down dissent
Yet the rumors grew like weeds:
"The Frost King seeks an annulment."
"The Fire Queen takes lovers."
Until the night my spy brought word from Vareen's court:
"King Kael was seen kissing Lady Yvaine beneath the
white roses. Witnesses confirm a betrothal contract."
I threw my wine goblet so hard it embedded in the oak door.
The Tavern of Broken Hearts
The Black Thistle was the kind of place
where crowns meant nothing—where a queen could drown her sorrows in cheap
whiskey and a king could brood in shadowed corners.
I didn't recognize him at first.
Kael sat slumped at the bar, his hood shadowing eyes that
usually burned like winter sun. His royal signet was missing, replaced by a
mercenary's battered gauntlet. But I'd know that posture anywhere—the way he
held himself like a blade sheathed too tight.
Our eyes met across the smoky room.
Hurt. Fury. Longing.
The Reckoning (Alleyway Confrontation)
Rain sluiced down the alley as I backed him against the
brick wall, my dagger at his throat.
"Was any of it real?" My voice broke. "Or was
I just a political convenience?"
Kael didn't flinch. "You think I'd bed Yvaine? After
taking a blade for you?" His hand covered mine, pressing the dagger harder
against his skin. "Do it. If you truly believe I betrayed you."
I trembled. "The witnesses—"
"Bribed." His other hand produced a note—the same
looping script that had fooled me. "By your Prince
Eliam."
The dagger clattered to the cobbles.
The Truth Revealed- it was Prince Eliam who bribed our
servant.
We rode together at dawn—two monarchs in mercenary
leathers—to intercept Eliam at the border.
The prince's smirk faltered when we emerged from the mist,
swords drawn.
"Such theatrics," he sneered, though his horse
shied backward. "The fractured monarchs reunited! How—"
Kael's arrow took him through the shoulder.
"Talk," I said, pressing my boot to Eliam's
wounded arm. "Or I let my husband show you how Vareen treats
traitors."
The confession spilled like blood:
- The
bribed servants
- The
forged letters
- The
planned coup when our kingdoms fell
Kael hauled him upright. "You mistake us for weaker
rulers," he growled. "We didn't survive wars to fall for petty
tricks."
The Rebuilding
The people's trust took longer to heal than the borders.
We stood together on the rebuilt bridge between our
kingdoms, watching the first trade caravans cross in months.
Kael's pinky brushed mine—a small, secret touch. "Next
time," he murmured, "we face the storms together."
I twined our fingers together, no longer caring who saw.
"There won't be a next time."
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