The Stolen Crown

Chapter 2: The Beginning

A still tranquility enveloped the room, as the faint crackle of the fire whispered to the smoke. The warmth it exuded soaked into the rich wood furniture, ornate tapestries, and the two living souls occupying the room.

They stood in the embrace of each other's beating heart, listening and feeling each rise and fall of pressure. Their warm breath tickled against each other's soft skin, the clothes between them doing little to stop what act they were committing.

With each moment that passed, the man held his place, his eyes closed, as if waiting for something. The soft red ordained gown that belonged to his companion, was all that kept the sharp features of his face and long loose hair from touching her skin. Though, before he could discern what he was waiting for, the sound of heavy feet rapidly approached.

With a hard 'thwack' the door swung open with a fury.

"You can't go in there!" A voice that would have otherwise been heavenly said, as she tried to stop the unexpected and uninvited guest.

"Move!" Istvan ordered with a bark, his heavy feet carrying him through the threshold.

"I am sorry your Grace," a woman by the name of Helene Kottanner said, hurrying to stop him. The simple yellow gown she wore hugged her thin, yet tall body, while the faint hint of her golden hair fell from her braided locks, obstructing a few of the scattered freckles that kissed her skin and climbed down her thin neck. Her eyes held a gentle color of a calm body of water, as the soft pink of her lips invited a second glance, though not at that moment.

"What the hell is going on?" Istvan asked with wide eyes and anger, catching the two in the act they had been entwined in while the King had passed away.

"You should knock," Queen Elizabeth said softly with a tilt of her head. Her unbound red and golden hair fell to her shoulders, as the exposed skin that flowed down her neck to the cusp of her shoulder held a tantalizing purity devoid of a blemish or mark of labor. Her eyes peered at her guest with a calm expression that was made evermore soft by the hazel color they held. Yet, while her soft red lips seemed as delicate as her voice, they held an authority that forced all to attention, if for only a moment.

"And you!" Istvan shouted, as he pulled his eyes from his lingering stare of the Queen and threw them onto the physician, Janos. "What the hell do you think you're doing with your head on her chest? And while he, your King, is still warm no less! I should have you in chains for the mere thought of such a thing!"

The fingers of both Queen Elizabeth and Janos were quick to reply, as both held their index fingers extended demanding silence; the first on her soft lips, the second suspended in the air. For the embrace that was shared was no lay in the biblical sense, or any such connection that bound two and made them one. Rather, one sat in the chair, while the other pressed closely against her, listening for the secrets that were within her.

"Why, you--!" Istvan began to protest, though before he could, he was rendered silent by a third finger, that of Helene who moved to stand in his path.

Silence held the air for a moment, as Janos continued his labor. He wiggled his ear, searching for a beat hidden within a beat, until suddenly with a nod and his eyes thrown wide open, he pulled his ear off of the Queen and turned his attention to those in his company.

"It will be a boy." He explained with a calm, yet confident tone. "I am sure of it. The King and you, my Queen, will have a son."

"What the hell were you doing?" Istvan demanded to know, storming over to him and swallowing him in his shadow.

"I was checking her heart, as well as that of the King's unborn son," Janos calmly replied.

"Son...?" Istvan asked taken aback.

"Yes," Elizabeth answered. "As I have long suspected. I will give birth to a son."

A loud scoff and a roll of his eyes was all that Istvan did, as he collected the right words on his tongue. "The King is dead."

All eyes fell to the Queen for a moment, as words from her company fell precariously close from being spilled from each of their still lips.

"A shame he has passed without knowing that he will have a son," Elizabeth finally said, as she lowered her head and offered a payer. "I can only pray now that God will tell him."

With a loud grunt, Istvan bit his tongue in frustration and held the words that wished to wiggle forth from escape. Though, he did not hold it at bay for long, as he turned his eyes to the physician whom he held authority over. "Where the hell were you? Where were you when the King, our King, was coughing up blood?"

"There was nothing more that could have been done when he was alive," Janos replied. "He was doomed. The forces that were saw it so. Nothing more I could have done than hold his hand. Therefore, I saw to tend to his memory and tend to his wife and unborn son, as was requested of me."

"Other men would call abandoning him traitorous," Istvan said softly, staring the man down so closely that the smell of his last meal filled the air between them.

Janos held his gaze for a moment, before fanning the smell and warm breath out of his face. "Onions?"

Like a beast, Istvan's nostrils flared wide and a low snarl formed in the back of his throat. His knuckles cracked as he fisted them into balls and the muscles on his thick neck tightened. Yet, before he could do anything, he was interrupted, and his bravado sapped.

"If there is nothing else, I would like a moment to collect myself before I see to my husband," Elizabeth said, standing from her chair. The gown she wore shifted with her weight, the soft cloth hugging her body and its curves, though the bump that was her pregnancy drew each person's eyes, further accentuated by the cupped embrace.

"This way," Helene said with a gesture towards the door, waving the men out. "Right this way please."

"My Queen," Janos said with a bow, taking his leave.

Istvan however, was far from cordial, as he lingered and watched the other man go.

"My lord," Helene ordered, pulling his attention and making her point with a raised eyebrow and a nod of her head.

With another grumble, Istvan turned to leave, mumbling a faint measure of respect. "Queen."

As the two left and made their way down the hall, there was still one who remained with the Queen.

"Is there anything else that you need?" Helene asked.

Elizabeth, was silent, merely staring out beyond the light of her room and into the hallway where the whispers of footsteps were all but gone.

"My Queen?" Helene asked softly as she stepped closer, placing her hand on her arm.

"What?" Elizabeth asked back.

"Is there anything you need?" Helene asked again with a look of concern.

"No, no," Elizabeth replied softly, lingering between her thoughts and the question at hand.

"Then I will leave you for now," Helene said as she pulled away and made her way to the door. Her fingers touched the smooth surface, though before the hinges could begin to whine, they were made still at the request of authority.

"Helene," Elizabeth said.

"Yes, what can I do for you?" Helene asked back from the doorway.

Elisabeth opened her mouth, though no words escaped her lips. With swift movements, she moved to the door and forced it closed. "Since I was born and given my name, I have known this life for twenty-nine years. I know what is coming."

"My Queen?" Helene asked. "Is something wrong?"

"Helene," Elizabeth said with a soft voice. "I have a favor I must ask. I don't need an answer now, but I must ask it."

"Anything," Helene replied with a smile, oblivious to what words would come.

Elizabeth stroked her belly as if she touched her unborn child, though when she turned to Helene, a fire burned in her eyes. "Would you really do anything? Would you risk your life?"

Helene was silent, unable to reply.

"Would you do anything?" Elizabeth continued, as she stepped closer to her friend. "Even at the risk of your children's lives?"