She shushes him, her eyes watering. “Save your strength.”
“No!” He coughs again. “You are Treland. You deserve the throne… noone else. My love, I am sorry for the war. I deserve… to die for everything I did… to hurt you. I am no better than Thrain.”
My desire for her is nothing short of beastly. I forced myself onto her even if she derived equal pleasure from it.
“I forgave you long ago, Sigvid. I love you! I always have.” Tears flow down her cheeks. “Do not leave me alone to raise our child!”
“You can rule Treland… without being weighed down… by a man.”
She shakes her head, sprinkling tears on his cheeks. Her shaky hands press over the open wound again.
“The gods created me… to protect you, Avina. I have wanted… nothing more… in my life.”
More pain assaults his veins as her healing power suddenly activates, and he can feel the cruel poison reverse. Even the gaping wounds begin to bubble.
Her power seeps into his soul, forging him to her. Despite his eyes snapping shut through the pain, he can sense her heartbeat pumping in sync with his rhythm. He glances at his chest to see even decade-old wounds cinching closed as if they never existed.
“I love you, Sigvid Thordsson.” Her lips, wet with tears, press against his sweaty and bloodstained forehead. “Be my King. Every decision in my life has been determined for me, except for my love for you. If I am to have all of Treland, then I will only take it with you at my side. My love. My Guardian. My King.”
Warmth settles in his bones, soothing his aches. When his gaze meets hers, the world stops. Everything freezes until only Avina remains. Her love is all he has ever needed, and the feeling of herseidr, reserved only for him, flowing through his body nourishes him with a unique power.
Fuck the gods.
Fuck Treland.
She is all he ever needs to survive. To live. To feel happiness and pleasure. And Sigvid will destroy anyone who seeks to ruin that.
“Not as your consort?” the corner of his mouth twitches.
“Have we not always forged this path as equals?”
“My Queen.” His voice is firmer.
A blinding light emanates from his body as he fully heals fromher hands. The stomach pain and weakness from the poison alleviates until he feels the same coursing energy as before the battle with Thrain.
Sigvid stands, pulling her with him. His hands cup her cheeks as he devours her mouth as if he may never taste its sweetness again. She moans against his lips, and he lifts her, wrapping her legs around his waist.
At the field, they kiss deeply while Thrain’s mangled body lies only a few steps away.
She pulls herself away from his arms to kneel at his feet. A fiery glint in her eyes begs him to sweep her off the field and into his embrace. “Hail, King Sigvid!”
“Hail, King Sigvid!” She repeats, this time louder so her voice echoes across the field.
He lifts his gaze to the armies surrounding them. A great sound of armor on armor signals movement as the Timber, Drengr, and Salt armies kneel.
“Hail, King Sigvid! Hail, King Sigvid!” The soldiers of all provinces chant.
“I was always Queen.” Avina quirks her brow at him. “I just never had the right King.”
“Hail, King Sigvid! Hail, King Sigvid! Hail, King Sigvid!”
He takes his Queen in his arms, laying his cheek against the top of her head.
He never wanted the damn country.
He never required her.
Yet, as the soldiers chant his new title, he realizes that is all he was born to do. To love her as her King.
