Decreash Imperial Palace
"My lady, you have to eat something."
"I am not hungry."
Racheal replied before retracting her gaze back at the window, where she leaned, her eyes fixed upon the gates.
"At least have some milk, if not for yourself, then for the sake of the baby."
Rosa tried to coax her with words, but all was to no avail.
"You cannot make me eat against my will, Rosa."
She says, her lips merely moving as she talked, but her eyes did not waver.
She had lost the will to do anything, to sleep, to eat, or to even live.
Something in her, a voice, keeps telling her all isn't well; today was the fourth day, and he was yet to return.
The spies they sent to know about his whereabouts are a story for another day. She was simply fed up.
"When is this pregnancy due?"
Racheal asked, her hand tracing the surface of her stomach.
"A few weeks from now, if signs of prelabor show, it could be days."
Rosa answered precisely.
"He must come."
She heard Racheal say as she turned away from the window and made her way to an armchair.
"He has to come."
She added as she settled into the chair, her hand massaging her temples.
In a splitting moment, Rosa knelt down beside her feet with a bottle of oil in her hand.
"Your feet are sore."
She says as she uncorks the bottle and pours a reasonable amount of the oil into her palm.
She rubs her palms together before lavishing the oil on Racheal's feet.
Her practiced hands tracing the sole and between the toes, her massage was like a therapy, and Racheal found herself giving in to a relaxation she hadn't felt for a while.
"The council members…they detest me."
She mutters with her eyes closed.
"Not all of them."
Rosa says, taking the bottle of coconut oil in her hand.
"Most of them, and the majority wins the vote, Rosa."
Racheal retorted, her toes twitching; she was getting tense again.
"You are their queen; they do not have a choice. They will have to give in to your demands."
"Only for a period of time."
Racheal felt her stomach churn just at the thought of it.
"In a society where women are seen as nothing but breeding stocks, I and my baby will not survive a season if the king doesn't return.
I have members of the council on my neck. Not to talk of Jazell… She is another obstacle entirely."
"You are strong, my lady; I admire your courage to stand up to the members of the council."
"You are trying to flatter me; I hate it."
Racheal said with dismay, and Rosa sighed.
"I cannot always speak the truth; sometimes I have to tell you what I know you would like to hear. It soothes the nerves, and that's exactly what you need in your condition."
"I am not like the other queens; I am not some prized possession to be…"
Racheal paused, her brows creasing as she sat up steadily.
"You were saying?"
Rosa asked, wanting to hear more, but Racheal shushed her, then steadily rose from the chair she was seated on.
"Do you hear that?"
She asked, shuffling towards the window.
"I do not hear…"
"Listen carefully."
Racheal says cut her off.
Rosa held her tongue and remained silent. Her ears pricked up trying to listen for any sounds… and she did hear something…noise…chanting.
Chantings from not just hundreds, but thousands of people.
Before Rosa could make sense of what was happening, she heard fast footsteps padding against the marbled floor.
She jolts back from her thoughts only to see Racheal heading towards the door.
"He is back."
...…......
The chanting rose before the carriage was fully seen.
It rang through the narrow streets in uneven waves, women's voices lifting first, weaving his praises into rough, half-remembered melodies.
They sang of strength, of victory, of a king who had not fallen. Some clutched their chests as they sang, eyes squeezed shut, as if the sound itself was holding them upright.
Some screamed as though they were deranged, but it was simply euphoria bubbling through their bodies.
Men took up after the women.
They hailed him with raised fists and broken laughter, shouting his name until their faces flushed and veins stood out along their necks.
Children darted through the chaos, scattering handfuls of flowers onto the road. Petals, yellow, white, and bruised red, fell beneath the hooves of the horses and the wheels of the carriages, crushed into the dirt.
Still, the curtains remained drawn.
No face appeared. No hand waved. The crowd pressed closer, craning, hoping, and waiting for even a glimpse of Ragaleon.
"Let us see him!"
"The king, our hero!"
Their voices pierced the air, desperate and demanding, surging from every side at once. The chant broke into shouts as the crowd pressed closer, bodies colliding, feet scraping the dust.
Whips cracked sharply, horsemen rode along the edges of the carriage, arms swinging as the lashes fell from side to side, not to wound, but to warn and forge a path.
People stumbled back with curses and cries, only to surge forward again the moment the horses passed.
"Stay back!"
One of the horsemen grunted through clenched teeth, hauling hard on the reins controlling the horses.
This should have been a time of celebration; it was…for the people of Decreash.
When the royal carriage had pulled in with soldiers mounted on horses trooping from behind, the subject erupted in an uproar.
They were delighted to see their king.
It was strange that the window of the carriage was shut; they knew their king was inside but wanted to see him for themselves.
"The mighty man that has never fallen by a sword!
"Long live Ragaleon Von Clegane!
"Long live the king!
Their welcoming ceremony was one truly befitting for a king, and Ragaleon would have been impressed. He would have waved at them.
He would have been mounted on a horse, leading the troop of carriages, enjoying the harmonious sync of the peasants' voices, but the case was the exact contrary.
"Why is the fucking carriage not moving!
"Screamed the lord commander from inside the carriage, who was holding on to Ragaleon."
Ragaleon's face was pale, turning blue. His lips were swollen, having blisters, and his eyes were turning to white orbs, as though he was already lifeless.
"It is moving, sir, but the people are in the way."
The man controlling the horse answered, his voice rising and falling in a frenzy.
"Then crush their toes with the wheel of the carriage, and forge ahead quickly!
He shot back, then turned his direction to the woman seated opposite him.
"Do something!
He rages in fury.
"I can't."
She mutters, feeling helpless.
"I do not have the right tools; the roots I plucked and shoved between his lips are not doing much."
Her face was pale with worry.
"Those evil Galveston cunts, bloody barbarians!
The lord commander cursed, his features hardened as the time passed. He was middle-aged, with some grey hair evident between his jet-black hair.
The victory was theirs for the taking. They spent the night under the full moon drinking wine after they won the war against Galvestone
By dawn they had set their path on the road leading back home, only for Ragaleon to be shot with an arrow by a vicious rebel of the enemy while mounted on his horse.
The victory became sour; they made all attempts to keep him alive. They searched around, and amidst the turmoil, they found a woman who was into herbal medicine.
She was their only hope, and she did help to sustain him, but that didn't seem enough; there was not enough guarantee that he would survive.
Eventually, the carriage reached the iron gates. By then, the guards were already on the ground, forming a solid line to keep the commoners from pressing any farther.
The gates groaned open, just wide enough for the carriage to pass.
The crowd was forced to stop.
They stood outside the iron bars, packed shoulder to shoulder, hands gripping cold metal as the carriage rolled beyond their reach.
When the inhabitants of the castle became aware that Ragaleon had returned, they all scrambled on their feet to make sure everything was put in place to receive him.
Outside the castle, the maids lined up as they watched the carriages pull up in front of them. All the carriages trooped in a straight line, dust flaring into the air as the wheels struck the ground.
But they were in for a great shock.
The carriage came to an abrupt stop, and the lord commander was the first to step out.
Racheal stood aside, her face beaming with a radiance that had been regained just moments ago. Beside her was the queen mother, Selena.
Jazell stepped out some minutes after, but just in time to see Ragaleon being escorted out of the carriage. His hand slumped loosely around the shoulder of the Lord Commander, his face hung down.
His feet barely found any foothold on the ground. His hair clung to his skin, falling over his face. He was like a ghost… but blue in color.
Racheal had already pouted her lips to welcome him but felt her world crumble when she saw him. All the words she had planned to tell him died in her throat.
She didn't move; her limbs went numb, a chill running down her spine as she watched Ragaleon being taken inside as per the orders of the Lord Commander.
"What is wrong with my son!
Selena demanded, her feet pacing up to match the Lord Commander as Ragaleon was taken inside.
"He will be fine; all will be well."
That was all he could say to reassure her, but deep down he knew the realms were at stake.
"Somebody summon the grand maester!
He shrills, his boot tapping against the floor of the hallway as Ragaleon was being taken to his chamber.
Some maids rushed to his aid, lifting Ragaleon, whose form was pressing against the lord commander.
Simultaneously, a group of royal physicians file in, carrying boxes of different sizes that contain their tools, all led by the grandmaester.
Ragaleon was taken to his chamber, and one of the maids tried to lock the door, but Selena wouldn't have it.
"Your Grace, you have to remain outside and let them do their work."
The lord commander says when he saw that Selena was about to step foot into Ragaleon's chamber.
"I want to see my son!
She shot back stubbornly, the wrinkles on her forehead resurfacing.
"You cannot go in."
"I do not care!
Her voice rained down on him, her eyes sharp like that of an eagle.
The lord commander had always been a man of great integrity. When he saw that Selena was not at her best, he decided coercion wasn't the best approach.
Her emotions were scattered; he could tell from her face. Her eyes were bloodshot, but she wouldn't cry.
Her chest was heaving, her pupils dilating, and she looked like she could murder someone, and she wanted to…the lord commander.