Bride of War (18+)

48

Monika

The sun rises on the temple once more, flooding it with light. A year has passed since I first met Slade, and he brought me into his world.

It rains outside softly.

Slade's eyes open. He sits up, pressing his lips to my shoulder, his arms wrapping around my waist.

"Good morning, my goddess."

I smile. "Good morning, Slade."

I feel his lips lift against the flesh of my shoulder. "I sense something is on your mind," he murmurs, his voice rumbling.

"There's somewhere I want to go today," I whisper.

"Alright..."

"I want you to go with me," I say softly, standing. He lets me go, watching me as I begin my morning routine. Bathe, pick a dress. Put my accessories on.

"Where is it?" He asks as I brush soap on my body.

"You'll see," I call out. He grunted, finally standing, starting his routine. He gets in the bath, looking at me, as I pass him a cloth.

He doesn't have to do these things. Bathing, eating, sleeping. He doesn't require them. I think he does it to provide me with a sense of normalcy.

His body makes no odor, needs no sustenance, no rest. Still, this is nice. The quiet part of the morning, where we sit And bathe together quietly, only small talk and warm water between us.

He gives me a small smile, rubbing my cheek. "You're so stunning, Monika. I find myself grateful to behold you."

I grin. "You charmer. You could charm a snake out of its skin. you know."

He chuckles. "I mean it."

My heart pounds in my chest. I press my forehead forward, and he meets it. I had Holjin put the illusion on me that he did in the Queen Ceremony.

Whoever sees me, sees their version of beauty. Their version of most beautiful.

"Hey...what do I look like to you?" I ask softly.

He pulls away, cooking his head. "You look the same as always. Is something different? Your hair is longer," he taps his chin.

I smile, leaning forward to give him a kiss. "I love you."

He smiles back, a little confused. "I...love you too. Wait—"

I stand, offering my hand. He glanced at it with a smile, put takes it, though we both know I can't pull him up. He steps out, picks me up, and sets me down on the marble gently.

I pat his cheek in thanks, wrapping a towel around myself as I leave the bathroom. He follows after me.

"Do you have to put clothes on?"

"Unfortunately, yes," I smile, my cheeks heating. He sighs.

"Such a shame. Terrible shame, blasphemy, really," he runs his fingers through his hair, as I chuckle, looking in the closet.

He paused. "You're planning on going out. Are you...sure you want to do that?"

My hand freezes in front of the fabric. Right. The war. The war I caused. My stomach twists.

"Ah...yes." I pick my dress. "Yes, I have to go."

"Is it something I can get for you," he insisted, following me as I drop my towel, and went back into the bathroom.

"No. We have to go together."

"It's just..." he paused. "It's bad out there, little goddess and you know how much it hurts you to see—"

"I'm over that."

"I can hear your heart beating," he says behind me. "I can hear the anxious twist in your belly, the way your heartbeat accelerates at the thought—"

I shake my head. No. I am a goddess. I'm over this. I'm over feeling guilty for what I had to do for my family.

I look in the mirror pulling up my silk sleeves. I force a smile. "It will be fine."

"Let's play our game," he whispers behind me, his figure dwarfing mine in the mirror.

I swallow. "Okay."

He sets his hands on my shoulders. "You see what's outside. The terror and the death."

"I feel guilty."

He stared at me in the mirror. "Your guilt overtakes you. You stop responding. Maybe go catatonic with grief."

I pause. "You use your powers. Make things worse."

He squeezes my shoulders tightly. "Then why not stay home?"

"I must go to this place. And I need you there."

He sighs, an umbrella appearing in his hands, as he sets his fur on my shoulders. "Fine then."

• • •

He teleports us. He refuses to travel through the land. For my own good, he insists. I don't debate. I don't argue.

I believe him.

I thought the travel time would help me prepare. But it's sudden, and then we're there, and I'm facing it.

Monika Del Monet.

That's all it says on my gravestone. Just my name. My maiden name. I smile. It's somewhat somber, somewhat ironic. Here I stand, and there I lie.

I suppose Monika Del Monet did die that die. The woman I used to be could never do the things I've done. The things I've endured.

That I've forced others to endure.

I glance back at Slade. "Isn't it—"

I pause at the sight of his expression. His brows were deeply furrowed. Such disturbance in his eyes. His eyes twitch.

"Who...why is this here?" He thunders.

I shrug. "Everyone thinks I'm dead. I'm surprised, honestly. I didn't think I would have one."

His fists ball up. "Are you attached to this?"

"Not particularly —"

Slade brings his fists down on the stone demolishing it. I blink. The stone is reduced to rubble instantly. I blink.

"I will not have anyone create a grave for my wife. You are not allowed to die. Not even in the minds and hearts of humans."

He pulls me away, his grip heavy and sure. I'm tossed over his shoulder as he stomps away. He doesn't teleport, and can't seem to clear his mind enough.

"It's just a stone," I whisper. "It's okay."

"No." He says simply. With finality. "It's a bad omen. I will not stand for it."

I smile, patting his back. "Ah...you and me forever."

"That's right and you're never getting out of it so don't even try," he grumbles.

"I wouldn't dare," I giggle.