Rogue wasn’t sure what to make of the morning light filtering through the dark curtains of a room he was unfamiliar with. He woke up slowly, absorbing his surroundings. A shift in his position alerted him to the comfortable weight against his left shoulder, and Rogue tucked his chin to find Callida’s head resting there. It all came back at once, and Rogue felt like he was drowning under the suffocating feelings that came with the memories of the night before.

In an effort to keep himself from entering a guilt spiral after barely escaping another of grief, Rogue started brainstorming productive things to do. Most of them required supplies that he didn’t have, so he got up, went to the door, and tested the knob to find it unlocked. Opening it, however, Rogue was barred by guards on either side.

“Excuse me,” Rogue offered in a placating whisper.

“Sorry, sir, but we have our orders,” the guard to the right stated.

“What orders?”

“His Majesty’s orders are to not allow anyone out of this room until he returns to say otherwise.”

“But we can send for something if you need it,” the guard on the left offered. “And His Majesty left this for you.” The guard handed him a sealed note that he placed in his pocket for the moment while he frowned at the bizarre concoction of formless thoughts and emotions triggered by this exchange. He pushed the resulting discomfort aside to make some requests: food, drinking water, water for a bath, and a change of linens for the bed. The guards acknowledged his list and pulled the doors shut again, leaving Rogue to stew behind them. Withdrawing the note from his pocket, Rogue broke the crimson seal.

To Callida —

I’m excusing you from council meetings today. I also took the liberty of checking on your boys this morning because I know you’ll need an update as soon as you wake up. I left the nurses, yours included, with explicit instructions on where to find you in the event of an emergency, but your boys were all very happily playing when I checked in. The ladies in the nursery are practically drooling over them, so rest assured that they are being very well looked after. And I do mean rest assured. That’s an order, General.

To Qiangde —

I will expect a full report on my councilman’s condition and recommendations for her treatment when I return in the early afternoon. See to it that she is taken care of until then. I need the Lion General to be functional, and I can’t have her passing out during council meetings again.

His Majesty, Verum Rex

Rogue set the letter down on the nightstand next to Callida and began pacing, feeling strangely numb. His Majesty had set this up: care for the babies, her forced leave of absence to rest, his own cooperation achieved through careful deception, the subsequent confrontation, and now house arrest — all of it, everything that Callida needed the most whether she herself realized or willingly accepted it or not. That numb feeling in his chest seemed to crack open, guilt seeping out to flood his entire body. And that unfounded jealousy where the Lion King was concerned merged with his own guilt in the bitter acknowledgement: His Majesty is better for Callida than I am. I’m not good enough for her.

The door opened, and Rogue closed the drapes around the giant four-poster bed to shield Callida while the maids brought in trays of breakfast, clean bedding, and hot water for a bath. Soon the maids left again, and Rogue returned to a couch by the hearth, slouching miserably into the cushions and closing his eyes.

He hadn’t meant to doze off, and Rogue startled to realize the ill patient with wheezy lungs and a stuffy nose in his dream was actually mimicking the real life sounds of someone in distress. “Callida?” The drapes still closed around the bed obscured his view, and Rogue got up to check on her. He found her sitting up and suppressing tears. “Primordials, Callida, what’s wrong?” he asked and took the space next to her on the bed.

Her arms folded around his neck immediately. “Y-you’re still here,” she breathed shakily into his shoulder. “I-I thought…. I thought…. Rogue, tell me you still believe me? Tell me you’re going to stay?” Her palm moved to his chest; Shyaam responded to her despite the words remaining lodged in Rogue’s throat. “Qiangde, please. Do you believe me now?”

He nodded, and Callida kissed indiscriminately at whatever part of him was most accessible to her before resting against his shoulder again.

“Don’t go,” she sighed sleepily.

“M’lady, let’s get you cleaned up.”

She nodded and obediently rose to her feet, the amount of strain required to do so more akin to an old lady three or four times her age. “Do you need any help?” She shook her head. “I’ll take care of some things out here then.”

“Okay.”

She disappeared, and Rogue got to work refreshing the bedding and relocating the trays of lukewarm food. He then went to open a window, letting in a chilly, but refreshing breeze.

“Oh, Primordials!!”

The exclamation startled him, and Rogue hurried to the bathroom to check that everything was okay, nearly colliding with a haphazardly toweled Callida heading the other direction. “Callida, what’s wrong?!”

“Primordials, it’s so late!” she explained in a panic on her way to snatch up a neatly folded uniform. Rogue had never seen anyone get dressed so quickly before.

“Callida, slow down!”

“I don’t have any idea what time it is!” She was braiding her sopping but clean hair back, her loose uniform plastered to her damp skin. “I’ve got to go! I haven’t checked on the boys since yesterday afternoon, and I’m so late!”

“Late for what?”

“The council meeting, obviously!”

He smirked. He couldn’t help it. “Callida, you need to slow down, and read this,” Rogue said, collecting His Majesty’s most recent orders from the nightstand to shove in her face.

She impatiently snatched the note out of his hands, reading it as she tugged her boots on, one only making it halfway over her foot before she stopped tugging to read the note more closely. “Oh.” The urgency left, and suddenly Callida appeared to be on the verge of collapse. She swayed on her feet, and Rogue caught her elbow.

“Let’s get you back to bed.”

“Okay.” She accepted his guidance and stepped out of the half-on boot.

Back at the bed, Rogue pulled her other boot off, and helped her out of her uniform and into a clean nightdress. “Eat something before you pass out again.” Another nod, and she accepted her breakfast tray, picking at it distractedly. Rogue sat behind her so he could better towel off her hair and run a brush through it. She wasn’t eating much, and Rogue frowned. “Callida, aren’t you hungry?”

“I’ve been nauseous.”

Right. The pregnancy. He cringed against the twinge of guilt. “When was the last time you ate something?”

“Um? Yesterday… maybe?”

“You don’t remember?” His frown deepened.

“Um…. It might have been the night before.”

“You haven’t eaten in nearly two days?!”

She started to protest, and then slumped forward. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Callida, you have to eat. If you keep going this way….” Rogue swallowed and second-guessed himself three or four times in a matter of seconds. “M’lady, look at me,” he said, coaxing her to rotate. “It… it might be wise to terminate the pregnancy, and before you get mad at me…. Callida, this pregnancy could kill you. You’re still anemic from the last high-risk pregnancy, you’re beyond exhausted, and I haven’t seen you this skinny since I first met you, and you were a prisoner of war back then! If you can’t take care of yourself, then as a doctor, I have to recommend termination of the pregnancy, or I run the risk of losing both patients. You can’t sustain both yourself and a pregnancy in this condition, and at this rate your body might even reject the pregnancy all on its own.”

She was very quiet — very still.

“Callida?”

“I’m not in the habit of killing innocents, Rogue.”

He deflated against the pillows behind him. Anxiety. Fear. Shame. Guilt. Mostly guilt.

“We made the choices that got us into this situation, which means it’s our responsibility to fix it,” she countered with undeniable logic. “So how do we fix it?”

“You’re asking me?”

“No. I’m asking the other guy in this room,” Callida snarked, a feeble effort to lighten the mood. “Rogue, what are our other options?”

“You’ll have to rest and go on a strict diet to address your anemia and build you back up to a normal weight while nourishing the baby. You will have to eat even if you feel nauseous and eat again if you throw it up. Do you understand?”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

She answered by picking up her discarded breakfast tray to try again in earnest. “It’s better than the alternative.”

***

Verum knocked on the floral-carved door quietly in case someone was napping. After a few moments, Qiangde came to the door, and the two men stared at each other awkwardly. “May I come in?” Verum asked after a moment, and Qiangde stepped back to allow him through. “How’s the Lion General?”

“Asleep,” he replied in a whisper, gesturing to the figure curled up on the bed, and Verum adjusted his own volume accordingly.

“What’s your report on her condition?” Qiangde was acting strange again, something flashing in his eyes, something defiant in his rigid posture, playing it off with a smirk and a muscle twitching in his jaw. Verum recalculated. “Maybe we should talk in my office? It’s just down the hall.” Qiangde tipped his head forward in agreement, and Verum led the way to the next room over with a giant lion’s head carved in the door. “Have a seat, Qiangde,” Verum gestured to the inviting living space by the hearth and went to a cabinet to pour a couple of drinks.

Qiangde accepted the offered wine with a hesitant “thanks” and then sat fidgeting with the glass without drinking any of it.

“How’s your wife, Qiangde?” Verum asked and slouched into the seat across from his guest.

Now the wolf took a sip… a swallow… a gulp…. Verum watched with a single, raised eyebrow and set his own glass down on a side table.

“Would you care for another glass?”

“No. One is plenty.”

“Are you ready to answer me now? How’s Callida?”

“Why do you care so much, Your Majesty?” Qiangde shot back, eyes burning.

“Should I not care?” Verum countered silkily and then looked at the fireplace as a way to avoid more burning eye contact. “I’ve known Callida since she was eighteen years old. We’ve been through a lot together — many life or death situations, and despite personal failures that could have easily sabotaged our relationship, she remains my best friend. She’s also an invaluable Lion General and source of counsel. There’s no one that I trust more, and I’m a better man and a better king for knowing her. Does that answer your question?”

“Only the one I asked.”

Verum met Qiangde’s eyes again and quirked an eyebrow. “And the one you didn’t?”

“Are you still in love with her?”

He snorted reactively, his face growing hot despite his best efforts to appear unaffected by the startling question. Verum’s eyes returned to the hearth, his mind racing. “Is that why you still refuse to call me Verum? I have a history with your wife, so I’m, what? A threat?” A glance in Qiangde’s direction confirmed that he was glaring at him. Verum sighed. “Does it really matter? The answer to that question?” he eventually deflected. “She’s chosen you. She needs you. She won’t look anywhere else, regardless of anyone else’s feelings. That’s just the way she is.”

“She doesn’t need me. She doesn’t need anyone,” Qiangde returned bitterly.

“Do you honestly believe that?” Verum found himself angry all at once. “Callida’s a soldier. Have you ever stopped to try and understand why she’s a soldier? Have you even bothered to ask her? Maybe you’ve watched her grieve. Have you asked her to tell you about all those family crest rings on her necklace — I mean more than simply asking her who they once belonged to?” Verum’s building anger compelled him to his feet. “Right now, Callida is broken! I’ve seen her break before, and I understand what breaks her. I don’t have the power to break her, Qiangde, but you do. And then you actually think that she doesn’t need you? Just look at her!” Verum shouted and began pacing feverishly. “Do you know what happened during that time when I was the one hurting her? Yes, I hurt her, so she went off to war, returning after every assignment stronger, more capable, more valuable, more powerful — the opposite of broken. And then she thought you were dead…. General Iuba had to recall her because her captains started reporting that she was acting recklessly. I was still being an idiot at the time. I didn’t recognize her pain for what it was until much later, but she also didn’t come running to me. In fact, she pushed me away! And here we are again: history repeats itself, except, this time, I already know who she needs, and I know it’s not me… even if I wish it were.”

Verum reeled in his tirade to see if it was making a dent. Qiangde’s bitterness had turned inward, and much of Verum’s anger was appeased to see his contrition.

“Qiangde, I already know that I can’t give Callida what she needs — believe me, I’ve tried. But I know that you can.” Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Verum returned to his seat. “So…. Your report? What support can I offer you to help get her back on her feet?”

Qiangde swallowed his pride, exchanging it for an uncomfortable humility. “She needs time for rest and proper nutrition.”

“I’ve already told Callida that the palace nursery is at her disposal. We have nurses on staff through the night. I’m also prepared to order her to take time off, and I can adjust her workload, to a point, when she’s ready to come back. Part of the problem is she’s a terrible delegator. If she were to share more of her responsibilities with her commanders, she wouldn’t be so swamped all the time.”

Qiangde nodded thoughtfully and stood to leave. “Let’s start with a couple days off so she can catch up on lost sleep, and we’ll go from there. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Verum grinned crookedly as he found his own feet. “Qiangde, my name is Verum. You’re Tatio’s nobilis, my best friend’s husband, and the doctor that took care of my wife through her pregnancy and recovery. I think that merits a first-name relationship, don’t you?”

Verum took great pleasure in the way Qiangde’s face twisted. “As you wish… Verum.”

***

Rogue sat watching Callida sleep and played with her freshly washed hair. The impassioned lecture from the king was churning over and over in his head. “Have you even bothered to ask her?” What frustrated him the most was that His Majesty — Verum — was right. There were a lot of questions that Rogue had never thought to ask her. Why though?!

Callida started shifting in her sleep and woke up as she struggled to get comfortable. A groggy grin greeted Rogue when she met his eyes a moment later. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he returned and then shifted to lie next to her on his stomach when she tugged on his sleeve in an effort to draw him closer.

“Hi,” she repeated, and the new proximity let him feel the warmth of her breath on his cheek. Rogue smiled and lifted a hand to fidget with the golden waves framing her face, his eyes following his fingers. “What time is it?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s approaching dinner time.”

“Have I been asleep all day?!”

“Pretty close. You were tired.” It’s my fault. You’ve been doing everything by yourself for too long. I should have been helping you. I shouldn’t have abandoned you.

Her hand snatched at the continued combing of her hair, capturing his palm against her cheek. “Qiangde, look at me.” He met her eyes, finding a scowl scrunching her forehead. “Why do you look so sad?”

“I’m not sad,” he denied with a ready smirk. The smirk was a mistake; Callida’s scowl deepened. She sat up studying him intently, and Rogue sighed, shifting once again to sit cross-legged next to her. “What?” She merely continued watching him; Rogue felt exposed. “Callida, why did you become a soldier?”

Her scowl raised in surprise. “Why do you ask?”

“Just something His Majesty said.”

“Verum was here?”

“He… stopped by between meetings.”

She nodded, her scowl returning. “And how’d that go?”

Rogue snorted. This was so typical of her, turning the tables on him to gather information rather than share it. It certainly contributed to his inexperience leading the conversation. “Callida, I want a turn asking the questions. Ok?”

She nodded slowly, her deep-set, caramel eyes never deviating from his. “Why did I become a soldier?” Callida looked down and drew his hand into her lap to hold while she struggled through an answer to his question. “Well, the short answer is that I want to protect people.”

“And the long answer?”

“I started because it was a huge part of my family culture, and then I stuck with it as a child because I was good at it and because I was stubborn, but…. I was eight years old the first time I fought in a real fight. I wasn’t supposed to join in or even be there, really. My father’s unit was on patrol, I was tagging along because mom and Germanus were both on duty and my babysitter had to cancel for some reason. There was a bandit raid. Dad stowed me in a corner somewhere and told me to stay put, but I couldn’t help but watch. There was a cluster of young soldiers; they’d gotten cornered, and they looked scared. I forgot my father’s instructions and my own fear and left my hiding place to help them. It worked; the bandits didn’t expect to be attacked from behind by someone shorter than their waists. That was the first time I considered what it meant to be a soldier beyond just simply training and patrol duty. And then I spent the next year going through intensive survival training with my father. We talked a lot about the ethics of being a soldier, strength of character, listening to your heart or conscience, and…. Those talks were very formative for me, and then dad was killed a year later. That’s when it all sunk in. He died protecting people who couldn’t protect themselves, but there wasn’t anyone to protect him.” She paused, her eyes zoned on a point to her left as she thought. “That’s not strictly true. He was one of many soldiers who fought that day, but as a ten-year-old, I regretted that I wasn’t one of them. I regretted that I wasn’t there to protect him, and I’ve been making up for it ever since. To answer your question, I’m a soldier because there are people I want– people I need to protect.”

“Who do you think you need to protect?”

“You. Our boys.”

“I don’t understand why you feel the need to protect me at all.”

“Because I love you, Qiangde. When I protect you, I protect my own heart, and if I were to lose you….” She swallowed, unable to complete that thought for how devastating it was to even imagine.

“So you protect people to protect your own heart?”

“It sounds so selfish when you put it like that. But… I guess? The truth is, I’ve lost so many people over the years, I’ve lost count. The irony of being a soldier is that most of your friends are also soldiers. Inevitably, you lose people. It’s only a matter of who and when. And when your family members are all soldiers… I’ve lost my entire family to war, and there was a time when I thought I’d lost you too. What’s the point of being a soldier if you have nothing — no one — left to fight for? How can you listen to a heart that’s dead? Without you, I don’t have anything left to protect.” She looked up, meeting his eyes and smiling sadly. There was pain behind that smile — pain and vulnerability.

“Callida, why me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you choose me?”

She snorted as though it were a ridiculous question and leaned in to kiss him gently. “So many reasons, Qiangde. You feel like home to me: safe and comfortable. You balance my crazy. My talent is in destroying and killing; yours is calming and healing. You’ve never tried to change or control me, you’re not intimidated by me, and you’re kind, honorable, and a bit of a tease. But mostly, I know I can trust you to take care of the heart I’ve given you.”

The force of that statement hit, and Rogue was instantly in hysterics, her delusional assessment in conflict with the truth. He didn’t know if he was more grateful for her unfounded faith in him, or more terrified that he’d never live up to it. “No. Callida, if anything, the last few months have proven that I can’t be trusted.”

“I disagree,” she said quietly. “I never said you were perfect, Qiangde. I’m not perfect either. The last few months, your judgment has been clouded by doubt and pain. Despite that, you never betrayed me. Yes, you hurt me. But you came back. You always came back.”

“I’m sorry,” he gasped repeatedly between sobs.

“I know.”

Rogue allowed her to comfort him, allowed her to brush his tears away, allowed her to kiss him when he’d mostly calmed back down.

She hugged him, her hand mindlessly stroking his back as he became sleepy. “I love you, Qiangde, mistakes and all,” she whispered into his ear.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Funny. I feel the same way about you.”