Prologue: Comsummate our marriage

"How…,"

Adeline leaned in closer, ensuring the conversation remained confidential. "I found it in Elder Criyca's room while tidying up. Initially searching for mementos for tomorrow's funeral, I stumbled upon this dagger with notes about trurian poison."

Sophia nodded, her face still filled with astonishment. "Where did she get this dagger?"

Adeline shrugged, "I'm not sure, My Lady. Elder Criyca has always been a mysterious figure. Perhaps it holds a deeper significance or a hidden purpose."

Sophia frowned in bewilderment. "Strange," she muttered.

Why did Elder Criyca possess such a weapon, and why was there information about trurian poison with it?

The mysteries surrounding the Gamaaloth, the Ostrill dagger, and the peculiar circumstances in which Adeline found them left Sophia in a state of unease.

Feeling the weight of responsibility settling on her shoulders as Adeline left her alone with the ominous dagger, Sophia mused, "My Lady, it's up to you to decide what to do, isn't it?" Adeline's hopeful gaze lingered, her voice tinged with melancholy. "I'm just here to deliver this."

With a gentle pat on Sophia's hand, Adeline departed, leaving Sophia alone with her thoughts. Closing the door behind her, Sophia turned her attention to the dagger in her hands.

Contemplating the Ostrill-embossed dagger in her hand, the symbol gleaming in the dim light, Sophia felt like she held the burdens of the world at her fingertips.

In the quiet of the night, shadows veiled by darkness, a heavy decision haunted her thoughts. "What should I do?" she murmured to herself. "I'm a healer, not a killer."

Sophia's eyes wandered, considering the consequences and choices entwined with the lives and destinies of many. She felt like a pawn in a colossal chess game involving interests, vendettas, and the fate of the kingdom.

Queen Sophia stretched out her right hand, tightly gripping the Ostrill dagger. "I must make a decision," she whispered decisively, embracing the responsibility that brought forth difficult choices on this silent night.

Gazing at the moon, partially veiled by ominous black clouds, her resolve solidified.

She couldn't postpone this any longer. Tonight, she had to conclude it all.

This was her moment.

Sophia reached for her cloak, concealing the dagger behind her back. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to steady her wildly pounding heart, mindful of the plan she was about to set in motion.

The corridors of the castle felt eerily deserted as Sophia stealthily made her way towards Ragnar's chambers. The usual presence of guards and Gamaaloth soldiers seemed conspicuously absent, leaving her puzzled. The hushed echoes of her footsteps reverberated through the empty halls, amplifying the eerie silence that enveloped the castle.

Sophia couldn't shake the feeling of bewilderment. Where had the warriors gone, and why was the castle left unguarded? It defied the typical order and security measures she had come to expect.

Approaching Ragnar's chambers, a flicker of uncertainty danced in her eyes. The door loomed ahead, and Sophia hesitated for a moment. The unusual absence of resistance made her question the reality of the situation.

The silence enveloped Sophia as she surveyed the room, interrupted only by the occasional hoots of an owl in the distance. The stillness felt unnerving, like the calm before a storm. With determined steps, she approached the door, realizing with wide-eyed astonishment that it was unlocked. Fate seemed to be smiling upon her.

Carefully pushing the door open, its hinges betraying no audible creaks, the room bathed in a soft glow came into view. In the center, Ragnar lay on a grand bed, oblivious to her presence. The moment hung in suspended animation as Sophia, armed with the concealed dagger behind her back, closed the distance.

The moonlight filtering through the window revealed the contours of Ragnar's face, serene in slumber. Fueled by a mix of trepidation and determination, Sophia moved soundlessly towards the bed. The realization that she held the key to her destiny, and perhaps that of Gamaaloth, intensified the beating of her heart.

As she loomed over Ragnar's sleeping form, Sophia's breath caught in her throat. The room held its breath with her, anticipating the irreversible shift that hung in the balance.

Ragnar's sudden movement jolted Sophia, and she instinctively retreated as he began to stir. Her heart felt as if it were about to leap out of her chest.

Rising from the bed, Ragnar, no longer clad in armor but in thin sleepwear, astonishingly discarded his face covering. Sophia was torn between the desire to catch a glimpse of his face and the murky darkness that concealed it.

In the dimly lit room, Ragnar sat on the bed, half of his face shrouded by shadows. Sophia struggled to see, wondering if he resembled the rumors about the Gamaaloth leader. A fleeting glance at the lower part of his face left her bewildered by the unexpected handsomeness that contradicted the tales.

"Ragnar...," Sophia uttered cautiously. "Are you truly Ragnar Clementine?" Seeking confirmation, she grappled with the uncertainty that lingered in the air. Could she have mistakenly entered the wrong room?

Ragnar's response, carrying a gravelly edge akin to a falling bomb, answered, "Yes, Sophia Mary Clementine. What are you doing here?"

"How did you know it was me?"

"I always knew. You have peculiar odor. What are you doing sneaking into my room at night?"

Sophia swallowed hard. "Me, Your Highness? P-peculiar odor? Sneaking into her husband's room?"

Ragnar didn't answer.

"Isn't this our wedding night?" she tried to steady her voice, concealing any nervousness. "Isn't that what we're supposed to do?" Sophia replied.

Ragnar halted. "Do what?" he asked, an icy note in his voice.

Ragnar's eyes bore into Sophia's, the room seeming to close in on them. Sophia felt the weight of his gaze, his intensity in the dark room sending shivers down her spine.

"Shouldn't we... consummate our marriage?" Sophia's words hung in the air, a tentative suggestion wrapped in uncertainty.

Taking a step closer, closing the distance between them, Sophia felt the air charged with a palpable tension.