Butterfly Effect

50. Fit For A Queen

Heartless would be the best way to describe him.

Her confession hung in the night sky, circling both of their ears. She did not know what she had anticipated from this but that cold, apathetic reaction was not it.

"Is that all?" He declared, an unrecognisable version of the man she knew stood there. "Because this grating weeping act of yours is going right through me. Merde. It's so fucking annoying. I need a drink after hearing that bullshit."

Her heart squeezed tighter, her sobs settling into light controlled pants of air. "You have nothing to say to me? I just told you the real reason for me wanting to be queen."

"And you forgot to call cut when you were done crying. Not a very good scene in my opinion. You should've been more dramatic hitting that last line, I might've felt something then."

"This isn't something to be taken lightly!" She bit hardly, "I can't believe you think this is a joke, that my feelings are all a sham."

He didn't let that slide. "Because they are."

She went to open her mouth to resist his assumption altogether but it was too late.

He was on his way out, passing her one last blank stare.

"You've made your bed, and now, ma chèrie, you're going to lie in it."

—

Her makeup looked retouched, refreshed and pristine.

She smiled like a perfect sovereign, rehearsed in greetings and casual talk. She played the role she had been betrothed and her mind went numb with emotion.

By the time it was time for bed, she had broken one of her father's impending rules by creating her own.

His tall figure slid into the bed, reaching over to press a kiss upon her forehead. "Having to act like you understand what self-absorbed royals are saying is tiring. I'm surprised you're awake still."

Her sadden state lasted as he laid down and she was placing her head onto his bare chest. The covers pulled up over both of their bodies, trapping their joined body heat in.

"I keep thinking about how I wish my father could've done one thing for me, just a simple favour that would make everything right."

His hum was low, she knew the darkness surrounding them was lulling him to sleep.

She didn't blame him, he had been running up and down all day, doing various different things.

For her.

Swallowing the pain, her racing mind toyed with the thought again.

"What is it?" Julian murmured, his hand absentmindedly stroking her hair. His eyes were closed, and she listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, her own pounding wildly.

"I wish," she sighed, starting again. "I wish that when I begged him to go and be with my mother rather than be violated, he had listened. I wish I could be with her."

His hand paused, the weight of her raw confession sinking in. "You mean, you wish she was still alive?"

Jana squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the pressure building.

She refused to succumb to the darkness and forced out another sigh.

The truth of her heart spilled from her lips. "No, I mean I wish I were six feet under, buried next to her."

The morbid thought struck him with such force that he responded immediately, a sense of urgency in his voice. "Jana, my love, you don't mean that. You don't want to die. Please don't say something so heart-wrenching."