Simina woke in the Queen's Quarters. The room was dark, and she couldn't see. Simina remembered the reason she fainted. She remembered seeing Nar on the floor, bleeding, dead, or almost dead. She'd rushed to him. The blood was all over the floor, slipping out of Nar and dripping onto the floor. It might have just been her imagination, but there was so much blood. She remembered Blu tugging at her, lifting her away from Nar, from the blood. Her body rose as Blu lifted her up, and she started flailing, struggling, but the stench of the blood was too much. There was too much red, too much of the smell of blood. It overflowed her nostrils until she couldn't take it anymore. She remembered fainting.
Was he dead? Simina started crying, bawling. Did she now belong to Julian? Would she have to run away? Simina stared at the ceiling, choking on her sobs, tears running down the side of her face. She buried her face into a pillow, muffling her sobs, soaking the fabric with her tears. The salt from her tears leaked to her lips and she tasted their saltiness on her tongue. Her chest ached, and she could not take the pain. Even though she was not in the foyer anymore, she could still smell the blood and the iron's stench. Her stomach churned at the memory, almost feeling ready to vomit.
The door to her room creaked open, and a soft light streamed into the room. Simina was too distraught to hear the door open. Nar softly padded into the room, his arm and chest tightly bandaged. It'd been a good five hours since the fight, which is how long they had been asleep. Nar figured Simina thought he was dead, so he went in to see her to prove otherwise. He came and knelt by her bed. A gentle finger stroked her cheek, cajoling and assuring. She flinched.
"What? What's that?" Her voice was hoarse. Nar pressed a kiss to her temple. The wetness on her cheeks greeted him as he took her face in both of his firm, rough hands.
"You've been crying, my love. It pleases me not when you cry," Nar murmured, nuzzling his nose into her hair. Simina gasped.
"Nar," she choked. Simina sat up. She could make out his silhouetted form in the dark, with a little bit of light streaming in from the open door. She grabbed him and hugged his head to her bosom, running her fingers through his hair. Nar slipped his arms around her waist and closed his eyes, enjoying her smell and warmth, engulfed by her love. Nar breathed out slowly in relief and content. She was so soft, so warm. He heard her heart beating deep within her chest, beating a mile a minute. Nar trailed his hands and fingers up and down her back, feeling her muscles, strength, and liveliness.
"Oh, Nar, I thought you were dead," she sobbed. Nar slid onto the bed with Simina and held her in his lap. Simina held tightly onto him and curled up in his lap, resting her head in the crook of his neck. Gloopy, wet tears dribbled onto his neck like a soft, tiny rainstorm. He held her tight, trying to calm her shaking by petting and stroking her hair. Simina slowly sucked in breath after breath, breathing in all that was Nar.
"It's me. I'm here, Simina. I'm not going anywhere. I promised you that I wouldn't lose, didn't I?" Nar said, smiling, stroking through her hair. Simina nodded and smiled.
"Yeah," she said with a sniffle. Nar kissed her eyes, her nose, and finally, her lips, each with a sweet softness.
"I love you." Simina held onto Nar and never wanted to let go.
Six months later, as Simina held her infant son, she thought about all of the books she used to read. They had all been fairytales of some sort, with happy endings and happily ever after. The more she reflected on these stories, the more she realized that they were indeed hogwash, like her father had once told her. Fairytales were simple, easy, and black and white. But real life wasn't so simple. Darkness doesn't mean evil. Light isn't always good. While there were similarities to the worlds in those stories and this world, like magic, Simina decided that she didn't want to live a fairytale after all. She wanted the ugly, the raw, visceral reality that was her world. Nothing is simple, and princes aren't perfect. If she hadn't accepted that, she may have never seen who Prince Nar truly was. A tormented, brooding, and misunderstood kind soul.
The End.