The Regressed Princess - Chapter 6

Chapter 6: May We Be Parted Forever

Andra’s pupils seemed to constrict into a vertical line…

Eleanor reached out, her hand gently pressing against Andra’s cheek.

She caressed and studied her lover, whom she hadn’t seen in so long. Sunlight leaped into the valley at the perfect moment, plating Andra’s handsome profile in thin gold, making even the beads of sweat on her face shimmer brilliantly.

Today, Andra wore only a suit of light armor, with an old cloak draped over her leather cuirass; the edges of the cloak were stained with unidentified blood. Her thick hair was matted with sweat, and her gloves and boots were covered in dust and ash. Her appearance could be called haggard, yet—she was Andra.

The fingertips Eleanor used to touch her cheek trembled slightly: How wonderful—every time I look into your eyes, my reason abandons me.

“What is it? My lovely Angie.” The heroic King was clearly aware of her own charm. She blinked, tenderly wrapping an arm around Eleanor’s shoulder and dropping a light kiss on her lover’s eyelid.

She performed these actions with a natural joy; anyone could feel the incomparable indulgence and love she felt, let alone the person cradled in her arms. The kiss seemed to carry a strange magic; Andra’s lips brushed Eleanor’s cheek before settling between her lover’s lips.

Eleanor’s mind went blank, nearly forgetting all the turmoil. But when the long, dominant kiss ended and their lips slowly parted… she saw Andra’s smiling face.

Confident, joyful ah, you are truly so satisfied with yourself.

Eleanor bit her lip, a single tear brimming in her eye.

“Hmm?” Andra nuzzled against her dazed lover’s cheek, whispering warmly in her ear: “Don’t be angry with me anymore, my eternal Princess—if your loyal servant has done something wrong, please let the Great Angie issue her royal decree.”

She was smiling.

Eleanor heard the lingering affection in Andra’s smile: she knew she would be forgiven. Everyone believed so. Yes, I have forgiven her time and time again; what is one more time?

Eleanor had many, many things to say, but she only leaned against her lover’s face and asked, like a sigh: “Andra, this military expedition… you went to attack Nolanna, didn’t you?”

She raised her hand, placing her fingertip against Andra’s lips as she moved to speak, gently rubbing them. “To rush from the battlefield to this place in half a month… you’ve truly worked hard.”

Andra’s eyes flickered, and a look of unease finally surfaced.

It was more than just hard work! As the King and leader of the army, she had decisively chosen to travel light after the news leaked, rotating horses constantly with her Royal Guards to arrive just this morning. In a book, it could be described as “without rest.”

Such a display of deep affection was enough to move the coldest heart, but why was the normally submissive Eleanor unmoved? When had she ever looked at her—looked at her lover who had traveled through stars and moon—with such eyes?

Even Andra began to feel anxious; she couldn’t help but lightly defend herself: “My dear, my goal this time was indeed Nolanna. That was only for unification… we talked about this before. There are no natural chasms between several countries; the gentle terrain will eventually drive them to form a unified nation.”

“Yes, I did say that.”

Eleanor tapped Andra’s mouth with her finger, cutting off her lover’s narrative. She looked at Andra with cold eyes: “Then what about my elder sister? They say you—tortured and killed her.”

Mm.

Andra’s brow furrowed, a sharp expression crossing her face. A few seconds later, she relaxed her tight lips and asked back: “Who gave you this news? It’s too biased. I had no reason to torture the King of Nolanna, let alone humiliate a corpse.”

War is never a game, and the victor has the right to deal with the loser. But executing a leader versus torturing them clearly sends a different signal. Andra’s rebuttal was logical: as a wise ruler, she had no need for such unnecessary cruelty.

Eleanor did not explain her source. After so many years, they both had many eyes and ears around each other. These informants selectively passed messages between the King and Queen; such behavior didn’t create much pressure. To outsiders, Andra and Eleanor were almost two sides of the same coin; the delivery of information was only a matter of sooner or later, not betrayal.

Eleanor had pieced together what happened to her second sister from the hints and implications of various sources.

She looked directly into Andra’s eyes and said, “Is that so? I heard you threw my sister to the soldiers to vent their rage, let them dismember her and discard her at will, and finally found someone else’s body to bury as the King of Nolanna.”

The sun rose steadily, and the sweat on Andra’s neck flowed along her collarbone into her undergarment. She remained stiff for a few seconds, then shrugged her shoulders and explained slowly, “Well, the story they concocted is incomplete. In fact, by the time we fought our way in… your half-blood sister had already committed suicide by poison. Our losses during the siege were quite heavy, so the captain at the time suggested—”

At this point, Andra patted Eleanor’s back like she was soothing a child, comforting her warmly: “Don’t worry, I eventually refused her request. The one dismembered wasn’t your sister, it was Mahani. You know, that corrupt official is nothing to grieve over.”

As Andra spoke, Eleanor kept her eyes fixed on her: the awkwardness, the forced composure, the mysterious self-confidence that emerged as she talked.

Ha. Eleanor almost scoffed aloud.

Someone else’s body? Yes, if she went to confront anyone else, they would tell her: Anya is right, it was someone else who was dismembered. Your sister’s body has been properly buried in the Royal Tomb of Nolanna.

Unfortunately, Andra’s expression had already said everything. As a monarch, she had no need to feel sorry for any lie or action. But only when facing her Queen did her eyes flicker like they had when they were children.

It was cute. This used to be a charming part of Andra. In their youth, whenever Andra did something wrong, she would make a pitiful face like a puppy, holding a gift she had made or found, carefully trying to please her little princess.

Andra had a strong sense of pride; in their long years together, they had indeed had a few fierce arguments.

Eleanor gazed at her lover, remembering their distant youth: Andra had once lived in her territory, and the two had exploded into a violent quarrel over pressure and trifles.

“Then just leave!” The little princess paced the room, turning to scream sharply at Andra. In truth, she regretted the words the moment they left her mouth, but how could a noble princess be willing to apologize? She only bit her lip, refusing to say she was sorry.

Andra’s eyes turned red, and she burst through the door and rushed out…

Eleanor blinked, seeing through her lover’s current body to the girl of that year who had bolted out the door only to return instantly.

Don’t leave me, Andra.

I was leaning against the doorframe then, wanting so badly to shout those words to you. “Fortunately,” you came back quickly.

Not only did she run back, but she also held an exquisite leather whip in her hand. The girl rushed over and knelt on one knee, dashingly pulling back her cloak to expose her shoulders, then handed her the whip. Andra looked up, a stubborn light shining in her eyes. “Fine, I am in the wrong. I don’t want to see you scowling! Whip me until your anger is gone, and then we can reason slowly!”

Even such humble words sounded so serious and arrogant when spoken by you, Andra.

“Ha… haha, hahahaha!” Eleanor laughed until tears appeared, and the memories of the past vanished along with them.

She sniffed and said calmly, “Don’t lie to me, Andra.” You promised me, again and again.

“…” Andra’s face tightened, that touch of childishness seemingly scattered by a piercing chill.

She seemed to bite her lip, and then fluent words spilled out: “Very well, Highness. The truth of the matter is—I did indeed need to use her body to appease the dissatisfaction of the soldiers.”

Andra used the intimate title for the little princess from the past, her tone becoming increasingly sincere: “My love, that half-blood sister of yours truly did many, many disgusting things on and off the battlefield. Without her, we could have saved so many, many people. I know what we did was irrational, but there was truly no intention to insult the Royal Family of Nolanna once you are recovered, you can completely go back and manage your homeland again.”

She raised her hands at the right moment to press on Eleanor’s shoulders, her gaze focused and warm.

Half-blood sisters.

Andra naturally knew that the relationship between Eleanor and the Second Princess, Ophelia, had once been plain, so she repeatedly emphasized the fact that they were not born of the same Queen. She was using these words as a solemn confession: Our love has nothing to do with Nolanna. I still respect you; you will forever be my most cherished Queen.

Her lover’s eyes were serious and pained, reminding Eleanor of decades ago the day Andra asked her to accept more Consorts.

“I need children, more than one.” Her strong lover had hugged her frail body tightly, whispering painfully in her ear: “I must win over those families at the fastest speed. By giving them a child, I can directly…”

“I know.”

I know, Andra.

At that time, Eleanor chose to accept it “calmly”: the strong of this world were far stronger than those of Earth. Even without hearing of any exaggerated magic, a hero who stood out could easily defeat dozens of ordinary people. Since the strong remained strong and the national system was a mix of slavery and feudalism, if Andra did not marry into the major noble houses and bear a sufficient number of children, it would be difficult to form a powerful and stable royal clan.

If there were no heirs for a long time, even the most loyal subordinates would look for a way out. How could Eleanor bear to let her lover shed tears or take risks? So she agreed. She used the long history of Earth and her real-life experiences to persuade herself, supporting Andra’s great dream with all her heart.

But Andra—I have my own dreams too.

She let go and gently pushed Andra’s shoulder, but didn’t push her away. Eleanor sighed and said nicely, “Fine, I understand. You go back first; I still have to continue climbing the mountain.”

“Fine—eh?” Andra smiled at first, then her eyes widened in disbelief, and she hugged her lover tightly.

“Why? Even without Nolanna, no one can shake your position! Even… even if I were mad, no one would allow me to hurt you… Eleanor, my princess, my beloved! I beg you, do not worry about this gossip…”

Andra looked heartbroken as she pleaded bitterly, but Eleanor’s gaze remained calm and still. The wind blew their hair; the tall King lowered her head for her lover, softening her voice: “I’ve only just returned, I’m so tired. My Highness, it’s too dangerous for you to climb the mountain alone. Let’s go back first. If you still want to come later, I’ll carry you up on my back, alright?”

Andra frowned slightly, her eyes drooping somewhat pitifully. Beads of sweat flowed down her neck one by one, and the sunlight evaporated into a scent that felt grounding.

Eleanor swayed in a daze, suddenly realizing her body was leaning into Andra’s embrace; this dependent flinch seemed to be her instinct.

No… I can’t… Andra is lying! As soon as I leave the Holy Mountain with her, I’ll never be allowed to come back!

She lifted her head, looking into those brilliant golden eyes, and said from the bottom of her heart: “Andra, let’s get a divorce.”

Tears dripped constantly from the corners of Eleanor’s eyes. Andra raised her eyebrows, and her pitiful gaze instantly turned cold.

She breathed in silence for a few seconds, then smiled and took Eleanor’s right hand: “Stop throwing a tantrum. Come, let’s go home.”

Eleanor pulled back on her wrist, shaking her head as she did. “I’m not angry… I’m really not angry now. Please, I beg you to let me go.”

Her tone was full of exhaustion; anyone could hear the despair within. However, Andra only increased the force of her pull, easily dragging her wife toward her. All the previous gentleness turned into a phantom dream. The person who would apologize softly and call her “Highness” was gone; in her place was only Andra the Anya whose word was law.

“Don’t be willful, Eleanor. The subjects of Hetuya and Nolanna both need you.” She dragged her wife toward the forest, raising a hand to point at the piercing sun beside them as she walked: “I swear we will have a true heir within five years. She will be your biological daughter and inherit a complete Hetuya.”

This was Andra’s final answer, a decision beyond change.

Eleanor took a light breath, pulled the hair-pin from her hair with her left hand, and stabbed hard at Andra’s back!

Crack. The air around them swirled with a sharp, broken sound.

The sound of breaking wind had just started when Andra had already turned around, easily catching Eleanor’s wrist. Her golden eyes were sharp for an instant, then the ice scattered when she saw Eleanor’s face, becoming soft and gentle.

“Stop playing.” She was like a herder teasing a puppy or a lamb; she pulled the pin from Eleanor’s hand and tossed it into the bushes. Then she cupped her lover’s head and rubbed her face firmly.

“Andra—” Eleanor lifted her face urgently. A finger descended from above, gently pressing against her lips.

“I said—stop playing, my noble Angie.” Andra’s pupils seemed to constrict into a line, cutting the sun and the future.

“…” Eleanor’s lips moved, the color drained from her cheeks, and finally, a weak smile emerged.

“Then… then let’s go back.”

She opened her arms to her King, her master, showing the smile she had been accustomed to since youth: “Carry me.”

So Andra smiled too, the storm having cleared. Her little princess had loved to act spoiled since she was a child. She loved her most when she was delicate and pitiful; she would be moved by it anytime.

“Alright, I’ll carry you right now, Highness.” She turned around dashingly, the smile still lingering on the corners of her mouth.

Drip. A drop of rain fell on her eyelid.

Is it raining? Eleanor will get sick. Andra instinctively gathered her cloak and turned back.

A splash of vivid red fell across her face, like a pitter-patter of red rain.

A dagger studded with gems trembled slightly in a fountain of blood; the crimson spring gushed from her lover’s mouth—

“Eleanor—!”

Her golden-red eyes turned blood-red in an instant. She lunged toward her falling lover, snatching the pale and crimson body into her arms.

Farewell, Andra.

Eleanor really wanted to raise her hand to wipe away the raindrops falling from her lover’s eyes, but her consciousness was slowly floating upward.

How nice… the weather.

She turned her body in the shattered roar to look at the vast sky, her pupils gradually losing focus.

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