Chapter 38 - The Problem With Fairytales
I gasp in offense so severe it nearly qualifies as a political attack.
"Leave my books out of this."
His mouth twitches immediately. "Your books are exactly the issue."
"My books are beautiful."
"Your books," he corrects calmly, "contain deeply concerning material disguised as romance."
I narrow my eyes suspiciously while he walks back toward his desk. "You're just uncultured."
"No," he says while sitting down again, "I simply believe women should not fantasize about giant insects."
I grin instantly.
"Hes not an insect."
Achille freezes mid-reach for another document.
Slowly very slowly he lifts his head toward me.
"Ophelia."
"What?"
"The man is a spider with semi-human form."
"Exactly not an insect."
"He had eight legs. Four arms. And wrapped her in his webs."
"He was protective."
"He ate someone."
"In his defense they should have never hurt his mate "
Achille stares at me in complete silence for so long that I begin fighting laughter before he finally leans back in his chair and rubs one hand down his face.
"The fact that you love me suddenly makes horrifying amounts of sense."
I beam proudly.
"You admit you're similar?"
"No i admit You are not mentally stable."
"That's rude."
"That's accurate."
I laugh softly and move toward him while he returns to his paperwork, though I can already tell he's distracted now. Once Achille becomes concerned about something, he obsesses over it until either the problem disappears or someone dies.
Usually both.
"I still think the spider prince was romantic," I continue helpfully.
He sighs heavily.
"Gods above."
"What?"
"That thing was enormous."
"I like tall men."
His eyes flick slowly over me.
"You are aware," he says carefully, "that you are short right that thing would be twice your size ."
I immediately look offended.
"I am five foot ten."
"You say that like it changes anything."
"You just think everyone is tiny because you're built like a castle wall."
"That creature was still absurdly large."
"Exactly."
"You prefer giant spider men now."
"I said I would make an exception."
"You hate spiders."
"I would overcome adversity for true love."
Achille closes his eyes briefly like he is praying for strength.
"The man had multiple arms."
Now it's my turn to stare at him like he's stupid.
"Yes," I say slowly. "That was part of the appeal."
His eyes snap toward me in horror.
"...excuse me?"
"Well, think about it," I say reasonably. "He would give incredible hugs."
"Ophelia."
"And imagine the possibilities."
"I do not want to."
"More hands means more attention."
His expression grows deeply concerned now.
"You are genuinely lusting after an insect."
"He was a prince."
"He was venomous."
"He was tall."
"You are impossible."
"And yet," I say sweetly, "you're obsessed with me."
His mouth twitches despite himself.
"That does not mean you're sane."
"It means I'm charming."
"It means I'm trapped in a marriage with a lunatic."
I gasp dramatically and place one hand over my heart while he stands again and walks toward me.
"You wound me."
"Yes," he says dryly.
Then immediately wraps an arm around my waist and kisses my forehead anyway. The contradiction that is my husband will never stop amusing me.
Achille is terrifying to entire kingdoms. Men twice his age tremble when he walks into rooms. Nobles have fainted during court simply because he looked at them too long.
And yet here he stands, muttering about my terrible taste in fictional men while absentmindedly rubbing circles into my lower back because pregnancy has made my spine hate me personally.
"You encourage my behavior," I point out.
"I endure it."
"You adore it."
"I tolerate you lovingly."
I grin triumphantly while he kisses the side of my head before returning to his desk again.
The office glows softly beneath the evening sunlight pouring through the tall windows, warming the dark furniture and stacks of documents spread across his desk. Outside, the castle remains crowded with visiting nobles and foreign rulers, but in here it feels strangely peaceful.
Safe.
The kind of quiet happiness I never thought I would have.
I wander toward the candy drawer near the shelves while Achille continues reading reports, muttering occasionally under his breath whenever someone writes something particularly stupid.
Honestly, most rulers would have servants organize their paperwork.
Achille prefers suffering personally.
I pull open the drawer and immediately smile at the sight of chocolate.
Pregnancy has transformed me into something deeply humiliating.
Before this child, sweets were pleasant little luxuries.
Now?
Now I understand why kingdoms collapse over resources.
I unwrap one slowly while leaning against the shelf near Achille's desk, humming softly to myself as caramel melts across my tongue. For a few precious seconds, peace exists.
Then I reach for another.
And another.
Behind me, Achille speaks without looking up from the papers spread across his desk.
"You're eating those too fast."
"The parasite demanded tribute."
"Our child," he corrects automatically.
"The parasite."
"That parasite currently has my child."
"Who also attacking my bladder," I reply flatly. "Yet no one mourns for me."
His mouth twitches faintly.
"That's my daughter you're insulting."
"You still don't know it's a girl."
"So you're allowed to fantasize about eleven-foot spider men with extra arms," he says calmly, "but I'm unreasonable because I think you're carrying a daughter?"
"Yes, my love. It's called double standards."
He sighs like I'm exhausting him spiritually.
"You're lucky I find you charming."
"You're lucky I'm pregnant or I'd fight you."
"You would lose ."
"I never planed on wining ."
I pop another chocolate into my mouth triumphantly.
Then immediately cough.
The sound catches unexpectedly at the back of my throat, sharp enough to sting slightly.
I wave it off quickly before Achille can start hovering.
Unfortunately, my husband notices everything.
His pen stills instantly.
"You alright?"
"Yes," I say easily, clearing my throat again. "Chocolate betrayal."
His eyes narrow immediately.
"Drink water."
"I know how throats work."
"That you do."
I grin at him over my shoulder before pushing away from the shelves. The burning worsens instantly.
I reach for another chocolate anyway because I have never once made a good decision while pregnant.
Halfway through chewing, the irritation sharpens violently.
A harsh cough tears out of me hard enough that I stumble slightly against the table.
Pain sparks through my chest.
I frown instinctively and reach for the water jug.
Behind me, I hear paper shift abruptly.
"Ophelia."
I try turning toward him, confused.
Another cough doubles me over violently.
Pain rips through my chest so hard tears immediately spring into my eyes.
Gods
it burns.
The cup slips from my fingers before I can catch it properly, crashing against the floor in a violent explosion of glass and water.
The sound echoes through the office.
Then Achille is suddenly there.
his hands are everywhere. Around my waist Against my back.
Pulling me upright against him so fast I barely register moving.
"What's wrong?" he demands.
I try answering.
I can't.
My throat feels tight.
Too tight.
Another cough claws violently out of me, and suddenly breathing becomes difficult.
my lungs are forgetting how to work properly.
Panic flickers weakly through me.
Achille's face changes instantly when i turn to look at him before my body goes back into a coughing frenzy.
"Look at me," he says sharply, gripping my jaw carefully.
I try as Tears blur my vision from the burning in my throat while another violent cough wracks through me hard enough to make my stomach cramp painfully around the baby.
Gods.
The baby.
Fear crashes through me instantly.
Achille suddenly shoves one hand into the desk drawer behind us and pulls out a small black bottle.
The second he uncaps it, the smell hits me.
My stomach twists violently before he even brings it toward me.
"Drink it."
His voice cracks.
his hands are shaking so badly the liquid trembles violently inside the bottle.
"Please," he says again, panic bleeding openly into every word now as he pulls me harder against his chest. "Please drink it."
The fear in his voice terrifies me more than the pain.
I instinctively turn my face away when the liquid touches my lips.
It smells horrifi but the taste is worse.
" i...cant"I cough weakly.
"please."
The room spins harder around me while another cough tears through my chest so violently I nearly collapse completely.
Achille catches me instantly.
"please my live i need you to drink ," he begs quietly.
My fingers clutch weakly at his shirt while he tilts the bottle toward my mouth again.
"Drink it," he whispers frantically. "Please, Ophelia. Please."
I force myself to swallow.
The liquid burns all the way down.
It tastes foul enough to make my stomach revolt instantly.
Bitter.
Thick.
Then agony twists violently through my stomach.
I choke.
A horrible sound tears from my throat as my body suddenly folds forward violently.
Everything comes back up immediately.
The liquid.
The chocolate.
Everything.
I throw up so hard my entire body shakes uncontrollably while Achille drops to his knees with me still trapped tightly against his chest.
One hand grips the back of my neck while the other holds my hair away from my face with trembling fingers.
"Easy," he whispers frantically. "Easy...easy.."
I can't stop coughing.
My throat burns raw now.
My stomach cramps again
harder this time.
Fear rips through me so violently I clutch my stomach instinctively.
The baby.
The baby.
Silent sobs break out of me before I even realize I'm crying.
"hurts" I whisper weakly. "Make it stop"
Another cough cuts me off brutally.
My body trembles harder.
"You're okay," he says immediately.
But his voice is shaking too badly for me to believe him.
"You're okay," he repeats desperately, pulling me impossibly closer while his hands shake against my back.
The office doors slam open hard enough to rattle the walls.
Voices erupt instantly.
Running footsteps.
Someone shouting.
Glass crunching beneath boots.
"Uncle.." I've never heard that tone from him before. "What do I do?" he asks hoarsely. " please Tell me what to do."