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Sky’s friends were quiet, as they had been every time they’d gotten together over the last year, having given up covering the absence among them with their usual level of joking and chatter. Once they would have enjoyed any opportunity to be all together, the time reminding them of back when they were in school, but now it felt too formal, them all too aware of just who was no longer with them.
Brandon thumped down onto the lounge beside Sky, pulling him from his reverie as he lifted his head from the palm of his hand.
“How are you doing?” he asked quietly, knocking his knee against Sky’s.
Sky nodded slowly, “About as well as can be expected, all things considered.” Brandon echoed his nod as Sky’s eyes drifted to Stella where she was sitting with the girls, looking like she was barely listening to the conversation going on around her. “She’s mad at me,” he said, with a jut of his chin.
Brandon sighed, hating that he was stuck between his best friend and his wife. “She’s not mad at you,” he corrected gently but Sky just snorted.
The hug they’d shared when she’d arrived on Eraklyon that morning had been short and stiff and she’d barely looked at him since, let alone said anything.
“Well,” Brandon said, reconsidering. “She’s no more mad at you than she is at herself. She feels like she failed, like we all did, and with tomorrow… I think she feels like we’re all giving up.”
Sky clenched his hands into fists at his friend’s words, blood thrumming with the need to do something, say something. “How can she think that? I know Bloom’s still out there somewhere, I know she is because I’d feel it if she wasn’t. But what else am I meant to do? What am I meant to do, Brandon?”
The last question wasn’t defensive, weren’t the words of a man trying to justify his decisions, but were earnest, a genuine question about what he should do. When one of his advisors had come to him a month ago and suggested that, with the anniversary coming up of Bloom’s disappearance, he finally call it, finally tell his kingdom that they were presuming her dead, he’d almost punched him. The only reason he hadn’t, and hadn’t fired him either, was because the advisor in question was one of the oldest currently in his employ having advised his father before him and his grandfather before that, and had, in all honesty, been more of a father figure to Sky than his own father ever had.
Tarian’s logic had been sound, even if Sky had hated to hear it. In the months since Bloom had disappeared the planet had sunk into an unofficial mourning period for the queen that had become so beloved to them; production and trade had stalled, and the economy had dived while crime had risen. You need to do it for your people, Tarian had advised, because as much as Sky believed she was still out there, his kingdom needed the official mourning time that Eraklyon culture dictated after such a loss that would allow them to move on. They would move on even if Sky himself wasn’t sure he ever would.
So tomorrow, exactly a year since they’d realised that Bloom was gone, he would stand in front of his entire kingdom and announce that his wife was dead, the two babies she’d been pregnant with, along with her. And Sky was certain that in doing so his heart would finally crack completely in two.
Between the snow drifting down on her and the threadbare cloak the woman kept clutched around her, she was cold to the point of no longer being able to feel her feet. But that didn’t stop her from continuing to trudge on, keeping the hood pulled up over her head so the wind didn’t nip at her face. The two bundles against her chest didn’t stir but the woman wasn’t concerned, feeling their twin heartbeats thudding in tandem with her own.
Despite the cold weather there were plenty of people out in the streets of the city and for reasons the woman wasn’t quite sure she kept her head ducked in the shadow of her hood, only letting her eyes dart up to sweep the area. Most of the people she passed were dressed wholly in black, not surprising considering it was one of the planet’s national colours, but the clothes lacked the usual ornamentation in red or gold, and some women were even wearing the long black mourning veils from traditional Eraklyon culture. The black of their clothing gobbled up what little light made it through the dense cloud overhead and stood out starkly against the white snow.
The woman knew she had to keep moving, that with her frozen feet and thin cloak, with her aching body and clouded head, to stop would be to give up, and she’d come too far to give up, but still she felt her stumbling walk slow further as she watched two veiled women inspect a poster in a shop window. The image on the poster was a portrait rather than a photograph and the artists’ devotion to the subject was clear; bright colours coupled with careful brushstrokes, the hair flowing red down the subject’s back, bright blue eyes, clear like the ocean, and a beatific smile. One of the women reached out a hand, ungloved despite the cold weather, and traced reverent fingers down the portrait through the glass and bowed her head, her companion following suit.
The woman watched them curiously for another moment before stirring herself back into action, forcing shaking legs onwards. She didn’t have to worry about remembering the way to her destination, all roads in this city, she instinctively knew, led to the palace rising high in the distance. She walked along something of a main street, both the road and the sidewalks bustling with motion of people and vehicles, hurrying along, darting in and out of shops, calling out to one another. But there was something muted about their interactions, and many, the woman noticed, paused before most posters of that same face, bowing their heads or reaching out to touch it. That face was plastered everywhere here, posters and portraits and images and photographs, some stationary, others enchanted to smile and wave, gazing down at them, at her.
The crowds thinned somewhat the closer the woman got to the palace, the tall buildings clustered together spacing out until they too stopped and she was left with just a wide open snowy walk that led up to tall black gates. Trees replaced the sprawling city on either side of her, growing closer and closer to form the forest that wrapped around the back of the palace as a defensive measure.
Under the last king’s reign, one might have thought twice about approaching the palace if they hadn’t been invited, would surely been turned away without an iota of compassion shown, but the woman didn’t hesitate and the guard who stepped out of the guardhouse to meet her did so with a welcoming smile despite the frigid air.
“Can I help you, miss?” His careful eyes didn’t miss her tattered cloak or the drenched shoes she wore and he added, “Did you need somewhere to warm up? You can come inside and we’ll arrange somewhere for you to stay tonight.”
The woman shuddered a little at the idea of warming up and clutched the two bundles to her body a little tighter, noting with a rush of relief how they both squirmed a little in her grasp.
“I need to see the King,” she murmured through numb lips, but the howling wind carried the words away before they could reach the guard.
Once she was close enough he settled a kind hand on the small of her back and ushered her towards the guardhouse.
“ I need to see the King ,” she said again, more insistently this time, and the guard’s smile faded a little as his eyebrows rose.
“We’ll certainly see what we can do,” he said finally. “But His Majesty is very busy preparing for tomorrow.”
The woman nodded a bit as she stepped inside, shuddering a little as warmth swept over her. The guardhouse was small, only really big enough for the guard and his companion who were manning it but it was blissfully warm, heating charms no doubt protecting it from the weather outside. She stumbled a bit as her body trembled in the glow of that warmth and the other guard sprang to her feet, eyeing her with concern.
“ I need to see the King , ” she said for a third time, and this time there was no question in the words, they were pure demand, her chin lifting and shoulders straightening into a posture that had almost been forgotten to her in these months away.
The guard who had welcomed her moved to the side of his companion and exchanged glances with her.
“Like I said, miss,” he began earnestly. “Usually His Majesty would be happy to grant you an audience but-”
The woman made a frustrated sound and reached up with a frozen hand, fingertips blue from the cold, to the hood of her cloak. The bundles at her chest squawked in protest as they were shifted but she ignored them, pushing the hood back from her face so the two guards could finally see her face.
At what they saw, at the red hair that was lank and crusted with frost, at the skin that had once glowed and was now sallow, at the wan lips that still turned up in a slight smile, they stumbled back a step, identical looks of pure shock on their faces. The woman might have found it in her to laugh had her knees not been trembling so fiercely beneath her.
So, lifting her chin a fraction higher, Bloom looked down at her subjects and said once more, “ I need to see my husband.”
Then her legs finally gave way from beneath her and she slammed to her knees in that tiny guardhouse, using the last of her strength to twist so she didn’t crush those precious bundles as she collapsed to the ground.
“When do Bloom’s parents get here?”
It was the first anyone had spoken in a while, just sitting around the fire in a slightly strained silence, and Sky roused himself at Layla’s question.
“Tomorrow morning, all of them. Daphne too. Oritel and Miriam will pick up Mike and Vanessa on the way.”
Flora made a sympathetic noise. They hadn’t had a proper memorial for Bloom back when she’d first gone missing, all thinking that between the might of Eraklyon, Sparx, Solaria and whoever else they’d be able to find her. Sky supposed that tomorrow would function as one.
He leaned forward with a quiet groan, scrubbing a hand over his face as he braced his elbows against his knees. He felt Brandon’s hand settle on his shoulder, thumb digging in comfortingly.
“You’ll get through this. We’re gonna get you through this,” he said in a low voice.
Sky forced himself to nod, but didn’t have the chance to come up with a response when the door to the sitting room banged open. Sky, along with the others, looked up in surprise, both at the sudden entrance but also from the lack of announcement from the guards outside. The arrival was one of the palace’s young messenger boys who was in his mid-teens and the son of one of the perimeter guards, if Sky was remembering correctly. The boy was panting and red-faced, making everyone in the room eye him curiously.
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” one of the guards began, having followed the boy into the room. “I’m not sure-”
But Sky waved him away. “Never mind that. What is it, Valian?”
Valian swallowed, chest still heaving. “They just sent me from the guardhouse, they- they said, she just walked up- they’re not sure but-”
Sky straightened slowly on the lounge, ignoring Brandon’s warning squeeze, while Flora looked at the boy kindly.
“Take a deep breath,” she advised, nodding in encouragement when Valian paused his babbling to gulp down a few lungfuls of air. “Now tell us.”
“It’s Her Majesty, Queen Bloom, they think- they think she’s back. She just walked up to the palace,” he said again in amazement.
Sky was already gone, he flew across the room, only just avoiding knocking the boy flying and darted through the doorway. He was unsurprised to catch a glimpse of blonde hair out of the corner of his eye and see that it was Stella who was easily keeping pace with him.
“Where?” she asked, her voice hard. “Where would they take her?”
“They were taking her to the infirmary!” Valian cried after them, and they both took the next right, taking the staircase two steps at a time.
They could both hear the others scrambling after them but didn’t slow to allow them to catch up, if anything they increased their pace until they were flat out sprinting, hurtling along corridors ignoring the surprised cries of guards and palace courtiers alike as they rushed past. Then the entrance to the infirmary loomed ahead, a familiar, elderly form waiting outside it with a guard at his side.
“Your Majesties, wait!” Tarian said, halting Sky and Stella each with an arm that was firm despite his advanced age.
Sky stopped himself, but only barely, turning instead to grip his trusted advisor by the shoulders instead. If his grip was too strong, Tarian didn’t show it.
“Is it her?!” Sky asked, a note of desperation in his voice as he shook the man slightly. “Is it Bloom?!”
If he couldn’t see Bloom himself, there wasn’t anyone else he’d trust more to confirm it for him. Tarian looked at him for a long moment and Sky’s heart twisted in his chest, not sure he would be able to handle it if he was about to get his hopes dashed yet again.
Then Tarian nodded gravely. “It’s her.” Sky heard a sob from behind him, thinking it might have been Flora, but he only had eyes for Tarian as his advisor continued solemnly, “But she’s not in a good way, Your Majesty.”
“How?” he demanded, before glancing at the guard. “You found her?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he replied, before grimacing slightly. “Or rather, Her Majesty found me. She walked right up to the guardhouse and said she needed to see the King, those were her words, that she needed to see the King. Her Majesty had her hood up but I knew right away that she wasn’t doing too well, she looked practically half-frozen and very weak. But then once we got her inside she finally took her hood off and then-” For the first time in his explanation the guard’s voice wavered, but he clenched his jaw and finished, “I knew. I knew it was my Queen.”
He knew as any guard at the palace would have known. Those charged with protecting the Eraklyon Royal family took their duty very seriously.
“They’re bringing her up for treatment now,” Tarian said, before glancing at the guard. “Your Majesty there’s something else-”
But Sky was already gone, his friends following closely as he burst into the bustling infirmary which was even busier than usual. There were people running back and forth everywhere, the noise easily double its usual level as questions and commands were fired back and forth.
And then there she was.
They came through a double set of doors at the other end of the main chamber, a levitating stretcher holding Bloom while the best of the palace healers all crowded around her, exchanging information, asking questions, and barking orders. Sky caught sight of a flash of red hair and pale skin and then his feet were kicking him into movement, crossing the room to her in a matter of footsteps, edging between medical personnel in an attempt to get close.
The healer nearest turned to him, looking on the verge of snapping for him to back off, before blinking and seeming to realise just who he was. Instead she inched to the side to make room for him, while Stella made use of her elbows on the other side to find a spot for herself.
Then Sky finally got to lay eyes on his wife for the first time in almost a year.
He understood immediately why Tarian had stopped him long enough to give him a warning, but even with it Sky felt his stomach bottom out at the sight of her. Her hair, once luscious and shiny, was now dull and lank, her skin had lost the life in it and was verging on grey, her closed eyelids like two bruises. Her face itself was gaunt, the cheekbones too sharp, her eyes almost seeming too big for it now, and her lips were thin and wan. When he took her hand it was icy in his.
“Bloom,” Stella whispered, her voice breaking a little, but Sky didn’t look at her. Couldn’t look at her, couldn’t bear to look away from Bloom as he drank in every detail of her. She looked like she’d been to hell and back in the year she’d been missing, but she was here, she was finally home again.
He only glanced up when looking wasn’t enough and he needed to know how she was actually doing. His eyes found the infirmary’s head healer, a fairy who had been in the position longer than Sky had been alive, the same woman who’d healed his every cut and bruise as a child.
“Status?”
“Severely malnourished, dehydrated, and hypothermic, and the Dragons knows what else, we need to examine her thoroughly now.”
They were still moving towards the hallway off the main chamber that housed the private rooms for the most senior members of the Royal family. But when Bloom’s hand squeezed in his, Sky stumbled, eyes darting back to her face where her eyelids were fluttering as if struggling to open.
“Hey,” Sky breathed, squeezing her hand in return, mindful of how thin and breakable it felt. “Bloom.”
Her head lolled towards him as if she didn’t quite have full control of her movements, but a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth regardless, and he thought she tried to say his name, though the sound was inaudible. Her fingers twitched weakly in his as if she was trying to pull him closer but didn’t have the strength, and Sky held up a hand, halting the procession momentarily.
“Hey,”he said again, leaning over so he could trace a hand lightly, so very lightly down the side of her face. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.”
That same, weak smile pulled at her mouth but then it faded and her mouth moved again, forming soundless words. Sky leaned even closer, putting his ear right by her mouth.
“What is it?”
“The babies,” she breathed, her voice little more than a whisper in the wind. “ Are the babies okay?”
Sky froze, eyes staring unseeing as he slowly straightened. He looked at her face again, but her eyes had already slipped closed.
“Sky,” he heard Riven say behind him, a strange note in his friend’s voice, and then he felt Brandon’s hand on his shoulder.
“Your Majesty,” one of the healers said apologetically as they started moving again. “We really need to examine her.”
“Go,” Sky said, feeling like he was speaking from very far away, knees not quite stable beneath him. He found Stella’s eyes and said, “Stay with her.”
Stella nodded determinedly and set her jaw, and Sky knew the Great Dragon herself wouldn’t be able to drag Stella away from her friend in that moment.
“Sky,” came again from behind him again, from Musa this time, and Sky could hear tears in the normally stoic woman’s voice. “ Sky.”
Brandon squeezed his shoulder tighter, and Sky dragged in a deep breath, feeling as though he was stepping out of his body as he turned around to see what was waiting for him.
Two junior healers had been trailing after the stretcher, a bundle of blankets in each of their arms which they were gazing down at as if they couldn’t quite comprehend what they were holding. One of the senior healers who had been walking with the stretcher fell back to check over them, peering down at first one bundle and then the other. Then the healer noticed Sky watching and her face broke out into a slow, excited smile.
“Do you want to hold them?”
Sky took a single step forward, Brandon’s hand still on his shoulder, and didn’t dare let himself hope. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Layla pressing her hands to her mouth, Flora crying softly into a tissue, and even Riven seemed to be wiping tears from his cheeks. He forced himself to walk closer, stepping out from Brandon’s touch, and missed that support when his knees almost buckled at what he saw.
For, peeking out of each bundle of blankets, was a tiny perfect face, one with a tuft of blonde hair and one with a tuft of red. A deep, shuddering breath worked its way free of Sky’s chest and he didn’t know what to do with his hands, his face, his anything. Then one of them, the little redheaded baby, scrunched up their nose a little and peeked open first one eye, then the other, gazing up at him curiously. And as Sky looked into those eyes, seeing his own navy blue hue reflected back at him, and tears started spilling down his own cheeks, he felt that broken heart in his chest finally start to mend.
He still couldn’t look away hours later as he sat at Bloom’s bedside, his daughter cradled in his arms. Her red hair was the same as Bloom’s but those eyes, those were his. His son, with his blonde hair and lighter crystal blue eyes, was the exact opposite in Stella’s arms on the other side of the room, the furthest Sky had allowed him to get since being reunited with them.
The only other time he’d allowed them out of his arms was when they’d been checked out by the healers, who’d declared them a little underfed and cold from the weather, but healthy. They’d been nowhere near Bloom’s level of malnourishment and when Sky had heard them theorise that she’d sacrificed every scrap of food she could to them he’d taken her too thin hand and brush a gentle, reverent kiss to the back of it.
Bloom would wake up, they’d told him over and over again, her body just needing time to rest and come back from the edge of collapse that it had been on but Sky knew he wouldn’t totally believe them until he saw her eyes open again. Even now he found himself glancing at her every other minute, just to reassure himself that she was there, that she was still there and wasn’t going anywhere.
He knew the others felt the same because they’d barely left Bloom’s room since she’d been settled in there, all squashed around the bed she was sleeping in, leaving the barest amount of space for the healers to get by. Oritel, Miriam, Mike, Vanessa, and Daphne were all racing for them, and then they’d have five more to add to their number, not that Sky minded. It felt as though Bloom’s absence had been keeping them apart for nearly a year, he was ready to feel close to the people he considered family again.
There was still so much to do; his address for the next day needed to be changed and this was one he would be happy to give, and then when Bloom awoke there would be questions about where she’d been, who had had her, and how she’d escaped, and then the task of tracking those people down and making them pay for what they’d done to her. But all that could wait, for now Sky was content to sit by Bloom’s bedside, his daughter in his arms, his son in Stella’s, and wait for his wife to wake up again.