Chapter 48 – The Storm Beneath the Crown
Zara didn't speak of the pregnancy again for days.
Not because she regretted telling Lucien, but because ever since she whispered those words — "I'm carrying your child" — something in him had shifted. Not in the loud, dramatic way one might expect from a prince. But in subtle, quiet changes that made her heart ache more than any battlefield ever could.
He started sleeping beside her again.
Not just in the same room — but beside her. His arm always draped over her waist. His hand never too far from her belly. He didn't say much, but his touch said everything.
He was scared.
And for a man like Lucien, fear was poison. It ate at him from the inside.
---
The rebellion was closing in fast.
Every scout brought back worse news — villages burned, border posts abandoned, alliances broken. The rebel army wasn't just surviving anymore — they were expanding. Feeding on the unrest Lucien's iron rule had planted years ago.
Zara knew war was coming.
But she also knew something else:
If Lucien broke before the war even began, they'd already lost.
That morning, she found him at the training field, shirt soaked with sweat, breath ragged as he brought down his blade again and again against a straw dummy. His movements were too aggressive, wild, uncontrolled. The kind of fighting you do when you're not thinking. When you want to bleed just to feel something.
Zara crossed her arms, watching him from the edge of the arena.
"You're going to tear your arm out of its socket," she said after his tenth brutal swing.
Lucien turned to her, face flushed, hair clinging to his forehead. "Good."
"That supposed to scare me?"
He dropped the sword with a heavy thud. "Nothing scares you anymore."
"Wrong." She stepped forward, looking him dead in the eye. "Losing you scares me. Dying before this baby is born scares me. Watching you destroy yourself to protect everyone except yourself — that terrifies me."
Lucien didn't respond.
She didn't expect him to.
So instead, she walked to the dummy, picked up his sword, and held it in both hands. Her arms trembled slightly — the blade was heavier than the ones she trained with. But she didn't drop it.
She slashed once — badly.
Then again.
Lucien watched in silence.
Zara finally turned to him. "You're not the only one who's going to fight, Lucien."
"I never asked you to."
"I don't need permission."
His lips parted slightly — maybe to argue, maybe to beg — but no sound came out.
She handed the sword back.
"Don't shut me out," she whispered. "I know you think you're doing this to protect me. But I don't need a prison. I need a partner."
Lucien looked at her, and for the first time that morning, his eyes softened. "You're not just carrying my heir," he murmured. "You're carrying everything I never thought I'd have."
Zara felt her throat tighten.
A home. A family. A future.
He didn't have to say it.
She already knew.
---
That night, she stood at the balcony of their private chamber, eyes fixed on the city below.
Torchlights lined the streets. Civilians whispered behind closed doors. Fear wrapped itself around the entire kingdom like a fog.
Behind her, Lucien stood at the table, drawing battle lines across a map.
"You're expecting them to breach the eastern wall first?" she asked quietly.
He nodded. "The cliffside gives them cover. They'll use it. That's where I'll lead our defense."
"You?"
Lucien looked up. "Of course. This war doesn't get won from a throne."
"And if something happens to you?"
"Then you wear the crown."
She turned sharply. "That's not funny."
"I wasn't joking."
Zara stared at him. "You're not leaving me to rule alone."
"I'm saying if I die, this kingdom will need a leader. Someone ruthless enough to survive, and kind enough to fix everything I broke."
She walked up to him slowly. "You think I can fix what you broke?"
"I know you can."
Zara reached for the map. Traced a line with her fingertip. "Then don't die."
Lucien caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Not unless you ask me to."
---
A week later, the first horns blew.
The city gates shuddered as hundreds of rebel soldiers surrounded the outer defenses. Fire arrows blazed through the sky. Screams echoed through the walls. It wasn't a warning shot. It was the beginning.
Zara stood on the balcony, watching the smoke rise.
She didn't flinch.
Behind her, the castle transformed into a war machine. Guards ran up and down corridors. Commanders barked orders. The armory emptied.
Lucien stood at the war gate in full armor — dark silver, trimmed in black. He looked every inch a tyrant. Unmovable. Cold. Deadly.
Zara joined him at the stables, dressed in lightweight battle leathers — her bump still too small to show through, though her body already felt it.
Lucien noticed her stiffness immediately. "You shouldn't be standing."
"I'm not breaking."
"You're not invincible."
She smirked. "Neither are you."
Lucien cupped her cheek, fingers lingering like he didn't want to let go. "If something happens to me—"
"Don't say that."
"I need you to listen. If something happens, you ride north. Take the child. Go to Ronin's estate. He'll protect you."
Zara grabbed his hand and placed it over her lower belly. "We are not going anywhere. We live. Together. Or we burn the world trying."
Lucien nodded, jaw tight.
Then he kissed her.
Not quick. Not sweet.
It was the kind of kiss that writes its name across your soul. That says what words never can.
And then… he mounted his horse and rode into the fire.
---
Hours passed.
Zara didn't rest. She stayed near the messengers. Near the medics. Near the gate.
Explosions rocked the outer walls. Wounded men screamed as they were dragged inside. The sky turned black with smoke.
She paced. Waited. Prayed — to no god in particular.
Then a familiar soldier ran up the stairs, blood on his hands.
"Princess! He's alive!"
Her knees nearly gave out.
"Lucien?"
"Injured. But standing. He's at the west barricade. He's—"
Zara didn't wait.
She grabbed a cloak and ran.
---
She found him hours later, leaning against a ruined wall, his face covered in soot, a bandage wrapped around his ribs.
When he saw her, something inside him cracked. He dropped his sword. Dropped his pride.
And held her.
"I told you not to come," he whispered into her hair.
"You knew I would."
He nodded, kissed her temple.
They stood there, surrounded by ash, and fire, and the stench of death.
But in her arms, Lucien found the one place no one could take.
And Zara realized that the strongest man in the kingdom didn't need saving.
He just needed someone who refused to leave.