You Don’t Belong to Me
Him
She never laughs, either. Not once, since she arrived.
She was brought it a carriage, holding onto her legs as she sat with her back curved. The village she was in had been attacked, her family killed. The priests tested her blood and it came back positive.
She is who we have been waiting for.
She never smiles. Not when the soldiers greet her. Not when the queen’s priests call her salvation. Not even when they tell her she carries the blood that might save us all.
I have never seen her lips curl to show her teeth, have never seen the way her eyes could light up with happiness. All I see are the way her eyes widen and glaze over as she tries to hide the tears
Still they speak of her like she’s legend.
I see the exhaustion in her spine, the way her fingers curl like she’s trying not to shake. The way her eyes never meet anyone’s for long.
Except mine. Sometimes.
She always looks away first. I don’t know if I scare her, or intrigue her, or fascinate her. She’s human, a tiny thing compared to my elven stature. I never look away. Never.
She’s not my duty. She’s not my queen. She is not anything I have been ordered to protect. And yet, I watch her as if looking away would kill me.
She walks like she’s already gone. That’s what haunts me most, that’s what keeps me up at night. I stand outside her tent, refusing to sleep and leave her even for a second.
I care not for the commander in charge of her care. I care not for the elves watching her to make sure her purpose is fulfilled. I will make sure she is okay.
She is mine. To protect, to watch.
But not to love, not to touch.
She is the key to end this war. The power resides in her blood. She is the prophecy foretold, no one knows how.
I’m careful. Measured. I move like shadows, never drawing attention. But when she drops her satchel in the dirt and no one helps her, when her hands shake as she gathers her things, I cannot look away.
I leave the war table early that night. My queen has asked me to warm her furs tonight and like I have since the moment Lana arrived to this camp, I refused.
I never refuse, but now I do.
My cloak is heavy with frost by the time I return to my tent. I scavange and fold another cloak that is lined with fur, warm, thick, and place it beside her tent.
Then I vanish before the sentries take notice.
I don’t expect anyone to see me. Don’t excpect anyone to care, but the queen sees.
She cares.
Her icey blue eyes narrow before she disappears into her tent.
She summons me in the morning. I stand beside the fire, watching over my shoulder as she circles me like I am prey.
She is ancient, powerful and she knows it.
“You’re watching her,” her voice is smooth, filled with disdain.
I do not answer.
She steps closer, until her nose presses agaainst my cheek. Her eyes burn gold. “You are mine. Your body. Your blade. Your breath. All of it you pledged to me.”
“I remember,” I say, my voice even.
“You sank to one knee as I pressed your sword to your neck. You spoke the oath. You are mine.”
“I remember,” I repeat.
“Then stop looking at her like you forgot,” she sneers.
She leaves me with that.
I was eithgeen when I pledged myself to the queen’s guard and have been the head of her care for the past forty years. For the last twenty I have been warming her bed. It was always part of my duty.
I had pledged my mind, my body, my time to her.
I had just never expected her to demand my heart as well.
And still, when night falls, I walk past Lana’s tent again.
I don’t speak. I don’t enter. But I am there.
Because I can’t not be.
